


The Girl Next Door, and the Boy Who Needed Her

by brittishmenorbust



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Cute, Demisexual Spencer, Developing Relationship, Drug Addiction, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Neighbors, Recovery, Romance, Slow Burn, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 159,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittishmenorbust/pseuds/brittishmenorbust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You move into the apartment next to Special Agent, Doctor Spencer Reid. The two of you form a friendship, and you help him recover from his kidnapping and subsequent addiction.</p><p>**Takes place after Spencer's kidnapping by Tobias. In this universe he takes a leave of absence to recover. Other plot points loosely based around subsequent seasons**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who read "Spencer Reid: White Knight," this is going to be a bit different/maybe a little darker. I thought it would be interesting to deal with an earlier season of Reid and his struggle with his addiction/post Tobias life.  
> There will be some smut, but I identify as demi/ace so don't expect a ton :)

Life was going pretty well for you at the moment. Although the death of a relative wasn’t usually considered “pretty well,” you had hardly known your great aunt, and for some reason, she had given you her entire inheritance, a hefty amount. Combined with your freelance writing, you were well off for the first time in a long time. Your new apartment at the Capital Plaza Apartments reflected this, and you felt a sense of pride and stability moving into #24.

The apartment was located in a nice part of DC. Your space had ample room for all your stuff and then some. It was nice to feel a bit of luxury for once. Your large living room gave way to a modern kitchen. Off the main area was your bedroom and a large bathroom.

The apartment building was so nice, that you were utterly shocked when you saw a giant cockroach meander over your stove and into a crack behind the microwave. You almost laughed once you had finished screaming. It was as if you’d been transported into one of those cartoons where the woman stands on a chair and screams at the mouse. Before you could laugh, however, you turned and screamed again as a man busted through your door holding a gun.

Thinking you were under attack, you held up your hands as you tried to think of words to save your life. The young man stopped, took a deep breath, and lowered his weapon. 

“What the hell?” you screamed at him, realizing he was not trying to threaten you anymore for some reason.

“I-- I… I’m sorry,” he sputtered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. “My name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI, I heard your screams and thought--”

He looked down at the ground as if he were ashamed of his good intentions.

“What the hell is the FBI doing here?” you asked, wondering if something bigger was going on that you didn’t know about at the moment.

“Nothing, I mean, I’m not  _ with _ them right now, I just live next door,” he said. 

Looking at him now, you could see this must be true. Under his ragged house coat were pajamas. It was the middle of the day.

You took a deep breath and tried to slow the beating of your heart back to normal. This man was not here to hurt you. He had actually intended to save you should you actually have been in danger.

“I’m (Y/N),” you said finally, still too rattled to do anything but speak.

He nodded and stood awkwardly by the door, his gun still by his side. The silence filled the room and gave you ample time to study him. 

His hair was messed in a way that some guys took hours to style, but you were sure had been natural; his slippers were red velvet; his eyes were brown and inquisitive.

Dr. Reid tucked his gun into a pocket of his house coat.

“Sorry again,” he muttered. 

“It’s okay,” you found yourself laughing. The situation was just too ridiculous. 

He smiled at your laugh.

“What did you scream about, anyways?” he asked.

“A cockroach,” you admitted. “It just appeared out of nowhere.”

“A cockroach can live for a week without its head,” Reid said, almost out of reflex. The moment after he said it, he looked dejectedly to the ground until you laughed.

Cocking your head to the side, you asked, “How do you know that?”

His lips turned upwards and he laughed.

“I’m full of information,” he shrugged. 

“Can I get my FBI friend a glass of water or something?” you asked.

He looked around and behind him as if checking to make sure the coast was clear for some reason. 

“Sure,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.

You gestured to the only furniture in the room that was assembled, the kitchen table and chairs, and he sat down, watching you sift through boxes until you found a glass.

“So what part of the FBI are you in?” you asked. 

He seemed like more of the behind the desk type, but then why would he have a gun?

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he said. 

“Oh wow,” you said, your eyes widening as you handed him his glass. “So you catch psychopaths and everything?”

He smiled softly.

“We try,” he said modestly.

“From what I hear, you succeed,” you praised him.

“You look that kind of stuff up?” he asked, surprised.

You took a seat opposite him and smiled.

“I have a morbid fascination with serial killers,” you admitted. 

“It’s said that people interested in serial killers are 70% more interesting conversations,” he recited.

You laughed.

“How am I doing so far?” you joked.

“Swimmingly,” he smiled.

You liked his smile, but for some reason, you didn’t think he smiled often enough in his life. Not surprising, given his occupation, you reasoned.

“Must be hard though, looking through all those victims,” you sympathized. 

He tensed, and it seemed as though you had hit a nerve.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, unsure exactly what you had done. But in the moment you had started to apologized, he had regained his composure, although his eyes seemed heavier than before. It was then that you noticed the dark circles under them.

“It is hard,” he said quietly. “Sometimes unbearable.”

It was a strange moment of intimacy to have with someone you’d just met. It almost seemed like he was saying this more to himself than you, and you simply nodded.

“But I’d bet the people you save are eternally grateful,” you added, trying to brighten up the mood you’d killed.

He smiled a little at this, the sadness lessening in his eyes.

“Yes, that is true,” he admitted. “What is it you do?” He asked. 

“Freelance writing. For magazines mostly,” you answered, feeling a tad self conscious at the comparative unimportance of your job. 

“That sounds relaxing,” he smiled. 

His eyes drifted to the piles of books around the kitchen table, landing on one stack right by his chair. The book was “War and Peace,” a title you had yet to crack open because of its immense size.

“Have you read this?” he asked, holding up the book. You shook your head.

“Not yet,” you admitted. “It’s a little intimidating.”

“Yes, I remember,” he smiled. “I read it when I was ten, and then again a few years ago in the original language.”

You laughed until you realized he hadn’t made a joke. He was serious.

“What, are you some kind of genius?” you asked.

“I have an IQ of 187,” he answered, pursing his lips together and watching your reaction closely.

“Holy shit,” you laughed. “That’s incredible. You read this when you were  _ ten _ ?” you confirmed. 

He looked relieved for some reason, and nodded.

“Maybe you should just tell me what happens, I don’t know if I’ll ever read it,” you smirked.

He laughed nervously and said, “I could recite it to you, actually.”

After the IQ, you didn’t doubt it.

“I have an eidetic memory,” he explained. “So I remember everything I read.”

“That’s insane!” you said excitedly, and jealously. “Sorry, probably not the best choice of words. I just meant really cool,” you smiled.

He looked surprised.

“Thanks,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that reaction before.”

He glanced around your apartment and then back to you.

“I should let you unpack,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he wanted to go, or just thought he should.

“Ah, but you’re helping me procrastinate!” You teased, playfully tapping his forearm. 

He looked, almost alarmedly at your touch, and for a moment seemed to debate something, but then he relaxed and smiled.

“Thanks for the water,” he said, getting up. 

“Anytime,” you promised, rising with him.

You walked him to the door and watched him walk out.

“Feel free to come over sometime,” you offered, having enjoyed his strange but easy company. “But maybe knock first,” you winked.

He blushed and chuckled, looking at his hands.

“Maybe,” he answered noncommittally. 

He carefully opened his door and slipped inside, not giving you the slightest glimpse of what was on the other side of his door.

You went back into your apartment and began unpacking. It wasn’t until you settled into the silence of your place, that you realized how much you missed having company already. You truly hoped he would take you up on the offer to hang out sometime, because you could tell how lonely you would be for a while until you made some friends here.

You managed to unpack half of your stuff before giving up to read before bedtime, all the while thinking about your encounter with the handsome FBI agent, and wondering when you might see him again.  



	2. Chapter 2

Carrying groceries up to your floor all by yourself was quite the feat. You managed to stack bags, boxes, and even a bottle in your arms. You could barely see over the top of the pile, but at least you didn’t have to make two trips. Fumbling for your keys while somehow balancing your stuff with one arm and the wall, you heard a voice behind you.

“Do you, uh, need any help?”

You turned your head slightly to see Reid peeking out of his door. He must have heard your struggle and grunts as you tried to get your stuff to balance. You could have put your stuff on the floor, but that seemed like quitting at this point.

You smiled and nodded thankfully. He slipped out of his apartment and walked uncertainly over to you. His hands seemed to shake, but he didn’t look nervous. His lips were pressed together in concentration as he lifted the top half of your packages. With less to balance, you were able to find your keys and unlock your door. He carried the food in after you and placed it on the kitchen table.

“Thanks,” you smiled once you’d laid down your half.

“No problem,” he said, turning to go. He stopped halfway between you and the door, looking around. “Looks nice,” he commented, not having seen the apartment since you’d unpacked.

“Thanks,” you said again. “Hey, can I get you anything? I feel like I owe you now,” you joked.

“No, I’m fine, thank you though.”

He seemed distant, and didn’t quite look you in the eyes. It was strange, you thought. Why would he come out of his apartment to help you if he didn’t want to see you?

“Well, I’m having a pizza party for one later, if you want to make it two,” you offered.

To be honest, you didn’t want to be alone another night. You craved company, even if it was someone you barely knew. He gave a forced smile, and you saw the heavy weight in his eyes. What was his job doing to him? It was then that you realized it was a Monday. He wasn’t at work. You didn’t ask him, as he was clearly already uncomfortable, but you wondered.

“I can’t tonight,” he said, giving no further explanation. 

“Oh, okay,” you said, dejected.

If he noticed the sting of rejection in your voice, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“See you later,” he said, as he walked out and closed the door.

You stood staring at the door for a few seconds. It seemed like he was two different people the two times you had met him. One was nice, if a bit awkward. And at first he had seemed like that again. And yet, once you’d tried to make any sort of attempt to get to know him, he backed way off. If he didn’t want to interact, why put himself out there?

You told yourself not to care. He was just a neighbor after all. So what if he was cute? So what if he was brilliant and engaging?

An hour or so later, you heard his door open and shut, followed by footsteps out and down the hall. Part of you wondered where he was going, but another part of you knew you shouldn’t care this much.

You ordered your pizza for one and binged on Netflix for the rest of the evening, until you heard someone yelling outside your door. Pausing the show, you got up from bed and walked to the door. 

Peeping out of the hole, you saw a very attractive man banging on Reid’s door.   
“Come on, man. Don’t make me make you open this door. You don’t need to relapse, man, I got you. Come on.”

His hand rested on Reid’s door, and he sunk his head against it in defeat, his eyes closed. Had he said relapse? Was Reid an addict?

Tentatively, you opened the door.

“He, um, left, a while ago,” you nearly whispered. 

The man turned to you slowly. He didn’t quite check you out, but his eyes brushed over you as if he were reading the details of your life. You kept the door halfway closed, trying to hide behind it. You didn’t want him yelling all night, so you thought you’d share what you knew. He wasn’t home.

“Do you know where he went?” the man asked. 

Then, shaking his head, he reached back into his pocket and pulled out a badge.

“I’m sorry, my name is Derek Morgan, I’m with the FBI, and I work with Reid.”

His kind eyes focused on you, and you nodded, giving him your name.

“I don’t know where he went,” you admitted. “I’ve only met him twice,” you added. 

He nodded. 

“Do you… I don’t know how long he’ll be, but you’re welcome to stay here. It sounded important,” you offered.

You didn’t want to outright ask about what he could be relapsing from, but you were intrigued. You also couldn’t help but feel like helping Reid. 

“It is important,” he said. “I don’t want to impose, though.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal, I was just watching Netflix,” you said. 

He smiled, this sort of half smile, flashing some of his very white teeth. He really should have been a model rather than an agent, you thought.

You moved aside and allowed him to come in. You left the door open so you could see if Reid came back as you sat down at the kitchen table. Morgan watched you carefully, still reading you. Did he think you were hiding something?

“You’re new here?” he asked, looking at the folded packing boxes.

“Just moved in,” you confirmed. 

“You’re a writer,” he said.

You looked around as if there might be someone giving him cue cards. 

“How’d you know that?” you laughed.

“It’s kind of my job,” he replied. 

“Right, behavioral analysis,” you nodded. “So you work with Dr. Reid a lot then?”

“Yeah,” he said. The way he said it didn’t make it seem like a lie, but neither did it sound like the whole truth.

“Is he… okay?” you asked. 

Knowing you had no right to this information, you blushed and looked at your hands.

“You said you’ve only met him twice?” Morgan asked. You nodded. “He’s alright, I think. He’ll make it through this.”

You nodded, feeling too embarrassed to ask for any more details.

“It’s nice of you to be so concerned about your neighbor,” he said. You shrugged.

“He seems nice,” you said. 

“He is,” Morgan agreed. “Did the two of you make any plans?” he asked.

“I asked him to, but he said no. Why?” you asked.

Morgan shook his head.

“No reason.”

A lie, but again, you had no right to ask why.

“So what kind of writing do you do then?” he asked.

It was like someone flipped a switch in him. He had been concerned, almost procedural in your discussion thus far. But now, he relaxed into his chair, smiled a little, and seemed for all the world to be hitting on you just with his gaze. You didn’t feel uncomfortable, you were even flattered, but you couldn’t help but think this was some behavioral trick to get you to admit to something about Reid. Knowing you had nothing to admit to, you answered his question.

“A bit of everything. Some creative, some for magazines,” you said. He nodded.

“Creative type, then,” he mused.

“I try,” you laughed. He chuckled. “I guess there’s not much room for creativity in the BAU.”

“We’re pretty by-the-book,” he admitted.

“Structure can be good. Deadlines are what make my world go round.”

“Right,” he smiled. “So you read a lot too, I’d imagine.”

“Not as much as Reid, apparently,” you smiled.

“No,” he laughed. “You have no idea.”

“You really care for him, huh?” you asked before thinking. “Sorry,” you said, “You don’t have to--”

“No, it’s fine, I do,” he admitted. “He’s a brainy, weird kid, but, God, I love him.”

You laughed at this, and Morgan couldn't’ help but join you.

It was then, in mid laugh, that you looked out the door to see the very subject of your dialogue standing in the hallway. You saw him before he noticed you’d seen him. You caught this look on his face that almost seemed like betrayal, although you couldn’t imagine why. Morgan followed your silent gaze and immediately stood up, rushing towards Reid. Out of his drab house coat, he was wearing a long sleeved button-up and pants. It seemed a bit warm for this, but you didn’t have time to consider why he wouldn’t opt for short sleeves. As Morgan sped towards Reid, you thought he was going to hit the genius, but as he neared him, his pace slowed, and he wrapped his arms around him in an embrace. Feeling like you were intruding, you lowered your gaze. Reid let himself be held, but then backed away.

“Do you have  _ any _ idea how worried I’ve been?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,  _ so _ worried,” Reid nearly spat at him. He glanced over to you and then back to Morgan.

“You said you were going to be home.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Reid said. 

This was more aggressive than you’d ever imagined him to be. It sort of felt like watching your friend’s parents argue while you were having a sleepover. Morgan took a breath and was about to say something, but remembered where he was. 

Turning to you, he said, “Thank you so much for your hospitality. It was very nice to see you. Hope to see you again soon.”

You nodded and returned the sentiments, watching the two of them walk into the hallway. Reid let one longing look pass before the door closed, cutting him off from you. You longed to go out and ask what was going on. You barely knew this man, but you didn’t think he deserved to suffer, and he was clearly in pain. You hoped that Morgan’s friendship would be enough to get him through this.

You debated trying to eavesdrop if they were still in the hallway, but you heard the door close, and heard only their muffled voices inside his apartment. Going back to your Netflix marathon, you didn’t hear Morgan leave until about an hour later. A few minutes after he left, you heard a knock on your door. Confused, you slid out of bed and looked through the peephole. Reid was standing there with an almost guilty look on his face.

You opened the door. Reid’s eyes cascaded down your body as you opened it. This wasn’t the profiler reading the subject as it had been with Morgan. This was an involuntary checking out of your admittedly tight pajamas.

“Um, hi,” Reid said nervously. 

“Hi,” you returned, unsure if this were the evasive or intriguing Reid. 

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier, in the hallway. I think I may have seemed a little harsh and dismissive earlier, and I wanted to say I was sorry. You helped my friend, and I thank you for that.”

“I just gave him a chair,” you shrugged. 

“Still, he was… checking up on me, and I was… an asshole for lack of a better term. So thank you, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed to genuinely mean this, and the desperation in his eyes for you to understand this was nearly overwhelming.

“Apology accepted,” you assured him.

“Okay, thank you,” he half-smiled. “Um, have a good rest of your night,” he said.

“You too,” was all you could answer before he nearly sprinted back into his apartment.

A little dazed from this whiplash-type evening, you sat down to think. What was going on with your neighbor? In any event, you were smiling as he left, happy that things seemed to have left off on a good note for the moment.


	3. Chapter 3

This was not happening. It sat like a little brown bomb on your counter, and you held in your shriek. Another cockroach had crawled out of nowhere and was sitting there, seemingly waiting for an attack. When another followed it, and then another, you ran for your phone and called an exterminator. 

“You’re lucky it’s just your apartment, not the whole building,” the bald man said as he finished checking out your apartment for the tiny intruders.

“Lucky?” you laughed. He shrugged.

“At least the whole building doesn't have to move out for a day.”

“What?” you asked.

“I’m going to have to fumigate this apartment, and you can’t stay in it. Do you have any friends you can stay with?” he asked.

“No, not really, I just moved here,” you frowned.

“There are plenty of hotels,” he said, packing up his stuff.

“Yeah,” you said, thinking. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be back later this afternoon with the kit, so I’d grab what you need for the night and find a place to stay.”

“Sure, not point in delaying the inevitable. I’d rather have them out of there ASAP,” you agreed. “I’ll be here to let you in,” you added.

“Great, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Showing him out, you were surprised to see your neighbor in the hallway. Reid was wearing a shirt and cardigan, pants, and crazy, mismatching socks. He was holding a mug of tea as he stepped out of his apartment.

“I’d recommend the hotel just a few blocks away. Continental breakfast, and a pool,” the exterminator smiled as he nodded. 

“I’ll look into it, thanks,” you smiled. 

He went on his way, and you turned to Reid. He was watching you, his head tilted to one side.

“Is something wrong with your apartment?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Remember that cockroach I screamed about?” you almost blushed at the memory, and he turned a shade redder too. “Well, turns out he had friends.”

Reid grimaced at this. 

“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” you laughed. “Anyway, I gotta go figure out where I’m going to stay tonight.”

You turned to go back into your apartment, but you heard his tentative voice behind you. It was so quiet, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

“What was that?” you asked to make sure he had actually spoken.

“I said, uh, I said that if you wanted to, maybe, you could stay with me?” his knuckles were nearly white as they gripped the cup so tightly. “You don’t have to, of course, I just thought it might save some money. And my couch is comfortable, you can have the bed, I can fall asleep anywhere so it’s really no problem. I fall asleep on it all the time in fact. But maybe you prefer couches? It’s up to you--”

“Really?” you cut off his rambling. 

His eyes had drifted to the floor during this prattling, and they suddenly snapped to yours.

“Sure,” he smiled nervously. 

“I don’t want to impose,” you added. 

The nervous twist in your stomach surprised you. You felt a tingling excitement. Not only did you want to see what was beyond that door, but you realized you wanted to spend time with him.

“Oh it wouldn’t be imposing,” he promised. “As long as you don’t mind a bit of a mess, I’m more than happy to have you.” His eyes suddenly widened at the slight innuendo and he quickly added, “Over. Have you over.”

You stifled a laugh as his cheeks seared with pink.

“Okay, great,” you said. “I’ll pay you in Chinese takeout, how’s that?” 

“As long as we can use forks,” he laughed. 

“Deal.”

You got to work ordering food and packing up your stuff, and finished up just as the exterminator was coming back.

“She’s all yours,” you gestured to your apartment. He looked at the stuff in your hands that was clearly not packed for any hotel stay. “I’m staying next door,” you informed him. 

Reid walked out into the hallway and bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“Food should be here soon,” you promised. You walked out into the hallway. “I’m just next door if you need anything,” you informed the exterminator. 

“Right,” he smiled like he knew something you didn’t.

Reid shifted uncomfortably, and you turned to him. 

“Shall we?” you asked. 

“We shall,” he answered.

You left the exterminator to his work and followed Reid into his apartment. There were books everywhere. If you didn’t know this was an apartment, you would have guessed it was an abandoned library. Various blankets and pillows lay about, as well as some notebooks. As if realizing how messy his place was only in this instant, Reid set about picking up the notebooks and placing them in a pile on a table.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t really have time to clean up, but everything’s clean, just not quite tidy.”

You smiled, it seemed like heaven to you.

“I like it,” you promised. 

“You can put your stuff anywhere,” he said, gesturing to your full arms.

“I put on clean sheets for the bed, and have a few pillows you can choose from.”

“No, no, I’ll take the couch,” you said, putting your stuff down on it. “I’m already imposing, I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

Before he could argue, the Chinese food arrived. You paid the man and brought the deliciousness inside. Reid made room on the table, clearing the books aside in favor of food. Once you were settled and eating, he resumed his argument that you should take the bed.

“How will I sleep knowing you’re on the couch when there’s a perfectly good bed in there?” he asked, slurping a little on a noodle.

“How will I sleep knowing I kicked you out of your own bed!” you countered. “You’re not going to win this one, so just let me couch surf for a night!” 

You smiled at his defeated face and laughed.

“Good,” you said. “How’s your dinner?”

“It’s great,” he said. Picking up the included, but unopened chopsticks he added, “How does anyone use these?”

“It’s an art,” you clicked yours at him. He chuckled.

You were glad that this was going so easily so far. You were worried that he might suddenly become the man who had glared at Morgan, or who had brushed you off. You reveled in bringing a smile to his face. You were wearing a tank top and shorts, but he was still in long sleeves and pants. You wondered if his body temperature just ran lower than yours. He didn’t seem uncomfortable. Still, it was summer, and you had to wonder just what he was hiding under those clothes.

“So, are you on vacation or something?” you asked. It was a weeknight after all.

“Sort of,” he smiled grimly. 

It seemed like he might not continue, and for a moment you had forgotten about Morgan’s choice of the word “relapse,” but he added, “I’m sort of on leave right now.”

“Oh,” you said, unsure what else to add. “Well, it’s nice weather for it.”

You looked down at your food feeling rather embarrassed. What business was it of yours why he was on leave?

“Yeah,” he answered. You gathered from his sigh that he was relieved you hadn’t asked why.

“So what do you want to do tonight?” you asked. “I mean, not that you have to spend it with me, I just thought--”

“No that’s fine,” he smiled. “I didn’t have any plans. I am up for whatever.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at the table for a moment as if he had said something awkward. 

“Great,” you said, trying to assure him with your tone that he hadn’t.

There was a silence that filled the room while you searched your brain for something to say. 

“Your friend, Morgan seemed nice,” was the sentence you finally came up with.

He half grimaced, half smiled. It was the kind of smile a patient might give a doctor who just confirmed their suspected case of cancer. Were you wrong? Was he actually a bad guy?

“He really cares about you,” you added, hoping that would help.

“I know,” he smiled sardonically. 

“Is that not a good thing?” you asked. Again you felt that you were pressing your boundaries here, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, of course it,” he said, taking a sip of water. “He just… He doesn’t quite  _ get _ it.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, you thought he might change the subject.

“What was your impression of him?” he asked.

You thought back to the charismatic smile, the good looks.

“He’s… charming, good-looking, straight-forward,” you were honest.

He nodded and smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, as if he’d been expecting and dreading that answer. “And what’s your impression of me?” he asked.

You knew what he was expecting you to answer. He thought he was awkward, weird-looking, and strange. Sometimes the most beautiful people couldn’t see how perfect they were.

“I think you’re amazingly intelligent, kind, and engaging,” you said softly, not quite brave enough to meet his gaze.

He faltered. He had not been expecting that. 

“Well,” he muttered, brushing some hair behind his ear. “You’re kind to say so, but my point was that we are very different people. He doesn’t understand why I need--”

He cut himself off before he could finish and you finally looked up at him.

“He just doesn’t understand,” he amended.

“I get that,” you said. “You have different relationships with the world around you. He seems like he sort of just floats through, I’d imagine especially in social situations. Whereas you and I--”

“You and I?” he echoed. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, despite his drawn eyebrows and cocked head. “You and I have a harder time.”

“Why would you have a harder time in social situations?” he asked, clearly confused.

“I don’t know, I just… Don’t know how to talk to people,” you said. 

“But you’re… You’re....” he seemed unable to find whatever word he was looking for.

“I’m super awkward is what I am,” you laughed. He let out a laugh that doubled as a sigh.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “And besides, the two of you are so beautiful, I doubt anyone notices. You know that people are more likely to listen to and believe aesthetically pleasing people?”

He had begun to ramble, but you weren’t listening anymore. You had lost it when he’d inadvertently called you beautiful. It wasn’t as though no one had complimented you before, but this felt different. He wasn’t trying to hit on you, he was simply stating something he perceived as fact. It was… honest.

Apparently your mental halt was noted, because Reid stopped talking.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You chuckled at your own immaturity.

“Sorry, it’s just, no one’s complimented me like that before,” you admitted.

Reid was silent for a moment, scanning back to see where he had complimented you. He hadn’t even registered it. You saw the realization dawn on his features as he blushed.    
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” you laughed.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he tugged at his hair again before smoothing it.

“You’re not,” you promised, smiling. He gave you a soft smile in return. “Anyway, I’m not good with people. Morgan has this kind of ease about him. I’m constantly worrying about random stuff.”

“Me too,” Reid smiled. 

“So, I get how he could be hard to relate to. I know I don’t know you that well, but I at least kind of get it if you ever need to talk about anything,” you offered. 

He nodded and smiled. 

“Thanks,” he said.

You could tell he wasn’t about to spill his darkest secrets, but the offer seemed to please him anyway.

“Or you could at least let your nice friend know that you appreciate him,” you smiled. “If only so he doesn’t end up at my place all the time.”

He chuckled.

“Yes, I’m sure you’d hate that good-looking charmer in your place,” Reid mocked light-heartedly.

“I’d rather have you,” you answered quietly, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

You almost heard him swallow, and he shifted in his seat.

“I suppose I shall have to be nicer to him then,” Reid answered.

The two of you were like middle school children, looking at your desks as you blushed.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” he asked.

“Well, I usually write from home so it’s not like I have to get up early or anything, but yeah I should probably get some sleep if I want to make coherent sentences,” you admitted.

As much fun as you were having, you really did need some sleep.

“And I can’t persuade you to take the bedroom?” he asked sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t try,” you chided. He nodded.

“Okay, well if you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock or yell,” he smiled. 

You stood together in the living room, both waiting to see what the other thought was a proper goodnight in this scenario. 

“Well, thanks for the couch,” you smiled.

“No problem,” he said. 

You edged closer to him, wondering if you should hug, shake hands, or do nothing. You looked at his chest, the flat expanse that could so easily cradle your head should you press your body against his.

Without permission, your body moved towards his. His arms were at his sides, but you slid your arms around his waist, lightly pushing them aside. You pressed yourself lightly against him, feeling his warmth through his shirt. As your cheek pressed against his chest, you nestled under his chin. He was still for a moment, and you wondered if you’d overstepped your boundaries. Right as you were going to pull away, you felt his tentative arms wrap around you, settling with one hand on your upper back, and one almost on the small of your back.

You stayed like this for a while before pulling away. His smile was peaceful, and he looked more at ease than you’d seen him before.

“Goodnight,” you said.

“Night,” he almost whispered. 

He turned slowly around, went into his bedroom, and closed the door. Part of you wanted to follow him in there, if for nothing more than to feel his body against yours again. Perhaps it was the loneliness you’d been feeling from moving to a new city, or perhaps it was the kinship you felt growing between you. Regardless, you sighed and grabbed your book as you headed to the couch. Knowing it would be nearly impossible to sleep in a strange place, you decided to read for a while. You had gotten a good ways into “War and Peace,” when you heard Reid’s door open. Looking over, you saw his unruly hair sticking up in all directions. He was wearing his dressing gown and rubbing his eyes as he entered the kitchen. He turned, expecting to see you sleeping, and jumped when he saw you were awake.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you asked. He shook his head.

“Nightmares,” he mumbled. 

For a second, your body felt cold. You could only imagine the kinds of nightmares an FBI agent who dealt with serial killers could have.

He filled up a glass of water and downed it quickly.

“Care to join the insomnia party, Dr. Reid?” you asked, moving aside on the couch and putting down your book.

He sighed and nodded, walking lazily over to the couch and plopping down. You were both scrunched at each end of the sofa. It was as if you were both consciously trying not to touch each other, lest it set off some kind of irreversible change.

“You can call me Spencer, you know,” he said. 

You thought back to Morgan yelling out “Reid.”

“I thought people called you Reid,” you observed.

“They do,” he said. He smiled at you as he watched you comprehend what he was saying. You were something else than the rest of the world. Something different. You gave a soft smile.

He looked over at your book.

“I see you’ve cracked it open at last,” he grinned. “How do you like it?”

“It’s alright,” you sighed, picking it up. “Didn’t put me to sleep. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” you laughed.

He gestured for you to hand the book over and you did. He held it carefully, as though it were a prized artifact. Weighing it in his hands for a moment, he opened it to the page that held your bookmark.

He began to read a few sentences, and you were awed by how wonderful his voice sounded as he narrated. He stopped to look up at your smiling face.

“What?” he laughed.

“I just like it when you read,” you replied. 

“Shall I continue?” he asked.

“Yeah, but hold on,” you said.

You moved towards him and sidled up next to him so you could see the text.   
“Do you mind if I just read along as you read it?” you asked.

He swallowed, his gaze dancing between your lips and eyes. He shook his head.

“Great,” you said.

Spencer moved so his feet were up on the couch. You sidled in between the couch and Spencer, resting your head on his shoulder and getting a better look at the book.

He continued to read and you felt his voice’s vibrations in his chest as they rumbled next to you. You could feel your eyelids getting heavy, but you fought to keep them open for about an hour before you lost the war. You dreamt peacefully until the morning.

Waking up, you didn’t remember where you were for a second. Spencer was somehow underneath you on the couch. You were laying on your stomach, pressed up against him. His hand was on your lower back, resting just above the line of your pajama bottoms. His other arm hung off the couch. The book had been laid on the floor. You lifted your head to see his resting face. He looked peaceful, and you allowed yourself to better study the shape of his lips, the curve of his neck.

He suddenly snorted and you laughed, your body shaking slightly with the motion. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at you quizzically, remembering where he was.

“Morning,” you said, not moving from your very comfortable position.

“Morning,” he echoed. “You sort of fell asleep on me last night and I didn’t want to wake you. I hope that’s okay.”

His tone implied he wasn’t sure if it were or not, despite your obvious comfort. You sat up and regretfully separated your bodies. Looking at him, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes were just a little lighter.

“I’m surprised I was able to fall asleep,” you admitted. “I can’t fall asleep anywhere.”

He adjusted himself so he was sitting up.

“I’m surprised too. I actually slept,” he smiled, and it was like he felt ten pounds lighter. He stood up and walked towards the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot as he went. “I didn’t… say anything in my sleep, did I?” he asked shyly.

You shook your head.

“Not that I remember,” you replied. He sighed, relieved.

“Coffee?” he asked. You nodded. “I’ve been waking myself up a few times a night now, screaming,” he said, rubbing his hands on his face. 

You knew it was still too early in whatever this relationship was to ask for details, but you didn’t want to seem unresponsive.

“That sucks,” you commiserated. “It’s weird how nightmares are so effective. It’s like your brain is self-sabotaging you.”

He nodded.

“They’re just your brain trying to process the most frightening and anxiety-causing things in your life,” he said, pouring two mugs of coffee. He nearly emptied the sugar shaker into his.

“Well, you’d think there was a less stressful way to do that,” you murmured. He nodded.

“It doesn’t help when you’ve seen the things I’ve seen.”

He sat down and placed the coffee mug in front of you. Without thinking, you laid your hand on his. You didn’t like that he had seen the most horrid parts of humanity, and you hated that it haunted him every night.

“The world is full of trickery,” you quoted, “But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.”

“Desiderata,” he smiled. You nodded. “I want to believe that,” he added. 

“Me too.” You removed your hand from his.

There was a silence that seemed to settle the matter as you added some sugar to your coffee, and the two if you sipped in silence.

After you’d finished your coffee, you looked at the time and realized you really should get to work on an article you’d been putting off.

“Alright, I should stop procrastinating and write some stuff,” you said, standing. He looked disappointed, but nodded.

“Maybe we could hang later though?” you asked, suddenly very much hoping he wasn’t busy.

“I’d like that,” he responded.

“Cool,” you said. 

The two of you sat there with dumb smiles on your faces. Whatever this was going to turn out to be, so far it was fun, and you wanted to get to know him a lot better.

Soon after finishing your coffee, you headed back to your apartment. The two of you had exchanged numbers, and were going to make plans later in the day.

The apartment smelled a bit off, but other than that, it seemed the exterminator had left the place in one piece, and a bill on the counter.

Somehow you were able to focus enough on writing to get a piece done. It was an article you really cared about, and were really satisfied to have it done and sent off to your editor on time. You did a few chores around your apartment, and made plans with Spencer to hang out that evening. Right before you were supposed to go over, your editor emailed you saying that he hated the piece and wanted you to redo it entirely. Crushed, you looked longingly at the wine bottle on your counter. Luckily, you had finished it early and didn’t need to revise it, or in this case, redo it, for a few days, but it still put you in a sour mood.

You texted Spencer the news, warning him you might be a little down, but you were bringing wine. He responded saying that he didn’t drink, but he would have a surprise for you when you got there.

Smiling, you changed into some comfortable clothes, a white tank top and matching shorts, and got ready to go over. When it was time, you walked out of your door and pivoted to his, knocking lightly, wine bottle in hand.

Opening the door, you smelled the surprise. Cookies. Fresh baked cookies. You nearly kissed him as he stood there. 

“Did you bake for me?” you asked, hoping your nose was correct.

“I thought it might help,” he smiled. 

You rushed towards him and hugged him tightly, your mood already soaring above where it had been.

“You’re my favorite human,” you announced, pulling out of the hug to see his happy face.

“Thank you,” he chuckled.

You walked in and saw the cookies laying on the stovetop. Setting the wine on the table, you rushed towards them, breathing in the delicious scent.

“I’m going to need a huge glass of that,” you told him, as you saw him walking with a cork screw towards the bottle.

“That can be done,” he smiled. He undid the cork and grabbed a large wine glass. Filling it up to the very top, he seemed pleased with his work. You stood waiting as he walked carefully over towards you.

Then, everything happened in comically slow motion. Spencer tripped, sending the wine flying out of the glass and completely onto you. It hit your hair first, then your white shirt and shorts, splashed your legs and your feet. Spencer landed on his hand and knees, somehow managing to save the wine glass from shattering. He looked up at you, his eyes wide in terror, and his mouth open.

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. He slowly stood up, still looking completely mortified.

“I am so sorry,” he said seriously, despite your obvious amusement.

“It’s fine,” you said through your giggles. You were dripping red wine as if you were bleeding. “I might just run home and take a shower though. I’m pretty thoroughly soaked.”

He looked guiltily at your drenched form and nodded.

“Well there’s no sense in dripping wine in two apartments, why don’t you just take a shower here? You can borrow a towel and slip back over to your place once you’re clean to get some new clothes?” he suggested.

“That sounds perfect,” you smiled. You tiptoed into the bathroom, wincing every time the wine dripped on the light carpet.

“I’m just going to run to the convenience store down the block for some club soda,” he said. “Maybe some stain remover if they have it. Maybe I can save my carpet and your clothes before it’s too late. I’ll be back soon, okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. 

You stripped your clothes and left them in the sink, stepping into the shower. You heard Spencer leave for the store, and suddenly felt very strange. You were naked and alone in his apartment right now. Shaking your head at the strange and comical situation, you quickly washed the wine out of your hair and off of your body.

There was a clean towel hanging beside the shower, and as you stepped out and wrapped it around you, you heard a knock at the door. Spencer’s door didn’t lock automatically, so there was no way he had locked himself out somehow. He wouldn’t knock on his own door, regardless if you were in there or not. You then heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

“Hey, Pretty Boy, I got you a sugar mama here to spice up your evening, come on, open up!”

You laughed, wondering what he could possibly mean. Looking through the peep hole, just to make sure it was him, you were surprised to see a blonde woman with Morgan. She was wearing a very pink dress, and had a sunflower headband that matched her glasses. You doubted she was a friend from work, but neither did you think Morgan would bring someone he didn’t know. 

Realizing you were only in a towel, you decided to tell them he wasn’t home.

“Hey, it’s (Y/N),” you said through the door. “Spencer’s not here right now, but he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You watched Morgan exchange a glance of disbelief with his friend before turning back to the door.

“Okay, well, can we wait inside?” he asked.

You glanced down at your short towel and sighed. They would no doubt draw the wrong conclusions from this before you could explain, but you didn’t really see another option without being unnecessarily rude.

“Okay,” you laughed. 

You opened the door and watched both of their eyes bounce up and down your nearly naked body with almost synchronized movement. Morgan was the first to smile, followed by his friend.

“It’s not what you think,” you promised through your embarrassed smile.

Morgan held up his hands in defense.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he said as you moved aside to let them in.

“Spencer spilled wine all over me as he tripped. He’s down at the store getting some club soda,” you explained, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

“Tripping does sound like something Spencer would do,” the woman said, nodding and smiling.

You didn’t even know her name, but you knew you liked her already. Her eyes were bright and engaged, and you noticed her Harry Potter pin on her handbag.

“Penelope Garcia, FBI technical analyst,” she said, holding out her hand. “Everyone calls me Garcia.” 

You shook it and gave her your name, hiding your surprise to find this was indeed Spencer’s coworker. You clutched your towel closer to you after taking back your hand, and stood awkwardly waiting for someone to say something. You were so embarrassed to meet Spencer’s friends like this, regardless of how nice they were about it.

“We brought some brownies!” Garcia suddenly exclaimed, reaching into her bag to pull out a small container of deliciousness.

“Spencer just made me cookies!” you said excitedly, walking over to see how much they’d cooled.

“He baked for you?” Morgan asked. The question was innocent enough, but you could see he was watching you closely for some reason as you answered.

“I sort of got shit on by my editor today,” you shrugged, finding the tray cool enough to transport to the table. “I should probably go change,” you added, looking down at the towel again.

“You’re coming back, right?” Garcia smiled hopefully. “These brownies aren’t going to eat themselves. Well, they could, but that would be incredibly strange, and you might not actually want to come back if that happened.”

You smirked at her quirkiness and nodded.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” you smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

They nodded, and you opened the door to see Spencer standing, panting, with a plastic bag in one hand.

“They had a stain remover,” he said, his cheeks flushed from rushing back here. 

“Incredible!” you laughed. “Oh, your friends are here, by the way,” you nodded to the two who waved from the kitchen table.

He glanced at you in your towel, almost as if he were seeing you for the first time. You watched as his eyes grazed every exposed inch of you, taking in your loose, damp curls. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, looking as if he were dreading what was about to happen. He walked in past you, and you saw Morgan’s face take on that of a childhood friend about to embarrass the hell out of his best mate.

“I’m just going to run over and change into something that’s not wine stained,” you told him. “I’ll be right back. My clothes are in your sink.”

“Alright, I’ll soak them with the stain remover,” he said. He glanced back to Morgan and sighed. “Hurry back,” he nearly pleaded.

You laughed and ran over to your place. You changed into a similar outfit as the one before, but darker. Heading back over, you heard laughter before you entered. Morgan was sitting with a huge smile on his face, Garcia looked proudly on at Spencer, and Spencer sat with his head in his hands. When they heard you, Spencer’s head snapped up, and he stood to walk over to you. Morgan’s triumphant smile turned into one of geniality, and Garcia watched Spencer closely.

“Sorry again about the wine,” he said, taking in your clean outfit.

“No worries,” you smiled. “Probably a warning to back off the wine,” you winked.

“Nah,” Garcia said, pushing a full glass of wine towards you. “Just means you get two to make up for it.”

You laughed and took a sip. 

“You guys having some?” you asked. 

“Sure,” Morgan smiled. 

“If you’re sharing, I’m having,” Garcia agreed.

Spencer pulled out two more glasses for them, and for a moment, it almost felt like you were a couple hosting a dinner party. That moment felt kind of good, until you realized you weren’t a couple.

The four of you situated yourselves around the table and began to munch on the cookies and brownies.

“So are you a writer?” Garcia asked. “You mentioned an editor.”

“Yeah, I freelance,” you responded. 

“Must be nice to work from home,” she envied.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Bet it can get a tad lonely though,” she mused. Morgan glanced fleetingly at Spencer.

“If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company,” you quoted.

“Emerson?” Garcia guessed.

“Jean-Paul Sartre,” Spencer corrected her. You smiled at him.

Morgan looked at the two of you with a look you didn’t quite understand.

“These cookies are amazing,” you said, pushing Spencer’s arm playfully. “They fully repair the rejection of my editor,” you added.

“Good,” he said, his tone more serious than yours had been. You stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher something in his eyes before Garcia spoke and broke your concentration.

“So, Reid, are you going to start baking snacks for the team when you come back? Don’t forget about your good pal in the tech cave,” she raised her eyebrows and winked at him. He chuckled.

“I would never forget about you,” he promised. “If anything, I’d give you Morgan’s share.”

“Hey! What did I do to deserve less deliciousness?” he asked accusingly.

“Oh, you know,” Spencer said chidingly.

Morgan winked at you, and you laughed.

“I, too, would take cookies at my office,” you added. “Even though my office is right there,” you pointed towards your apartment. “And now officially bug free,” you added.

“Bug free?” Garcia made a face. “There were creepy crawlers in there?”

“Yeah, I just had it bug bombed last night. Luckily, I have a very nice neighbor, who let me stay with him.”

Morgan’s eyebrows nearly shot off of his forehead as he looked at Spencer. You wondered what he thought was going on here. Surely he didn’t think the two of you were sleeping together did he? Spencer didn’t seem like the type to dive into a relationship, let alone anything physical. If he was trying to be subtle about his suspicions and surprise, he was failing. You could almost hear Spencer groan. You hadn’t said it to get a reaction from anyone, you just wanted them to know that their friend was still very kind, despite whatever it was he was going through at the moment.

“Really?” Morgan asked. 

“A slumber party!” Garcia chimed in. “I want in on the next one.”

You smiled at her good-natured innocence. 

“Deal, only if you bring these though,” you pointed to the delicious brownies.

Morgan was watching Spencer’s cheeks turn red. Was Spencer embarrassed by the thought of you two being together? Or just the fact that Morgan was teasing him?

“Deal,” Garcia promised.

The four of you fell into a nice rhythm of banter after that, laughing more than you had in a long time. Spencer seemed especially happy, his laugh was like music.

By midnight, you were pretty tipsy, and also pretty tired. Happy you didn’t have to take a cab home, you decided to head back to your place.

“I think I’m calling it a night, guys,” you said. You stood up as everyone’s face dropped.

“Yeah, I suppose we do have work tomorrow,” Morgan said regretfully. 

Garcia joined him in standing, soon followed by a suddenly somber Spencer.

“We should do this again, yeah?” you asked.

“Definitely, and maybe a girl’s night soon?” Garcia asked.

You were pleasantly surprised by this, and nodded enthusiastically. You exchanged numbers with Morgan and Garcia. You put your phones away once you’d typed in the digits.

“Great!” she said as she hugged you. She moved along to Spencer and wrapped him in her arms. “Goodnight, my junior G-Man,” she said, squeezing him.

“Night, Garcia,” Spencer responded.

“Night, my man,” Morgan said, shaking Spencer’s hand.

“Drive safely,” he said. 

Morgan came to you with open arms, and you accepted the hug. You could feel his muscled chest against you, his strong arms wrapped firmly around you. It was so different from hugging Spencer, and not just the physical feel of him. Hugging Morgan didn’t give you butterflies in your entire body. It felt nice, friendly, but not the same electricity you felt with Spencer.

When he pulled away, you saw Spencer was looking at the ground. 

“Night, little lady,” Morgan said to you. 

“See you soon, I hope,” you smiled.

He nodded. 

The two exited, leaving you and Spencer alone. 

“Thanks again for having me over tonight, and last night,” you said.

He raised his gaze to meet yours and smiled softly.

“Any time,” he promised.

You smiled. 

“I’ll text you soon, okay?” you asked.

“I’d like that,” he said.

You walked towards him and slid your arms around his waist, snuggling your head under his chin and hugging him. His arms wrapped around you, tentatively at first, and then completely. You didn’t want to leave, but it was late, and you were tired.

Breaking the hug, you smiled at him.

“Sweet dreams,” you said, hoping the sentiment would work as some kind of spell.

“Thanks, you too,” he said. 

The sadness in his eyes told you that he did not expect sweet dreams at all. Part of you wondered if you were the reason he had slept well last night, but another part wasn’t ready for that answer yet.

You left his apartment and walked into yours. You got ready for bed, and realized you missed the body that had been beside you last night. After a while, you finally fell asleep alone.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days were filled with writing and rewriting for your editor. The piece had come out well, despite the rocky start, and you were happy with it. It was Friday, around seven, and you had just sent off the last revision to your editor. Sighing, you closed your laptop and stood up, ready to go find a show on Netflix to binge. Just as you were going to leave the room, you heard a knock at the door. 

Peering through the peephole, you saw Spencer waiting there, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He was holding a paper plate covered in aluminum. Smiling, you opened the door for him.

“Hi,” you greeted warmly. 

His face lit up when he saw you, and he peeled back the tin to reveal a plate of brownies.

“After making those cookies the other day, I sort of indulged my sweet tooth. I figured I shouldn’t eat all of them, though,” he smiled as he presented the brownies to you.

“Oh my god, marry me,” you joked. “Come in.”

He was blushing slightly, but followed you inside. You took a seat at the kitchen table and he joined you, putting the brownies down.

You snagged one of the middle pieces and tried it. It was so wonderful, a small sound of joy escaped your lips. Spencer laughed.

“I’ll take that as a good sign?” he asked.

“A very good sign,” you said with your mouth full. He chuckled. “You’re the best.”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep last night so I figured I would do something productive.”

He said it lightly, even smiled when he said it, but you looked at the purple rims of his eyes, and the weight of sleepless nights on his shoulders. You reached your hand out and laid it on his.

“Still having nightmares?” you asked. 

Keeping the smile on his face, as if he might fall apart should it slip, he nodded. Slowly, the smile fell and he took a deep breath.

“I’m always back in that cabin,” he said, looking down at your hand on his.

“The cabin?” you asked.

“I was, um, kidnapped when we were going after an unsub,” he said. “He kept me in a cabin.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” was all you could think to say. It felt so inadequate, but what could you say to someone who had gone through that?

“Things… happened,” he said vaguely. “Bad things, and I just… relive them in my nightmares.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push him. Still, he was beginning to open up, and you had to let him know you were there for him.

“You can call me any time of the night,” you offered. “Or just come bang on my door, and I’ll be there. I’ll make sure you know that you’re  _ not  _ there anymore. You’re  _ here _ .”

Your voice was steady and sure, and Spencer looked up at you, his face a mixture of surprise and gratitude. 

“You would do that?” he asked. 

You nodded.

“Of course,” you said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Despite the fact that the line of friendship had been blurring in your mind into something else, was irrelevant. At the very least, you were his friend, and you were there for him no matter what.

“Yeah,” he said, a small, genuine smile on his face. “We are.”

“Good,” you smiled back. You watched him for a moment before something occurred to you. “Does it ever happen during the day?” you asked. “Not nightmares, obviously, but like, flashbacks?”

He sighed and nodded.

“The smallest thing can send me back there,” he admitted. 

Your hand was still on his, and you moved to hold his hand, rather than just cover it. He looked down and watched as you did this, not fighting it at all. 

“Well, if I’m with you when it happens, just grab my hand, okay?” you said. “I’m not sure how helpful it will be, but I’ll know that you’re going through that, and I’ll do my best to help you.”

He stroked his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“Promise me you’ll do that okay?” you prompted. “You don’t need to be alone in this. And you shouldn’t be.”

“Okay,” he nearly whispered. 

You sighed and leaned back in your chair. 

“Good,” you said. 

Just then, his phone buzzed. It cut through the silence and tension of the moment, and made you jump a little. Keeping his hand in yours, Spencer used his other hand to look at his phone. Just after he unlocked it, your phone went off. Spencer laughed at the text as you read yours. It was from Morgan.

_ Hey, darlin’, me and the team are going out tonight. Pretty Boy won’t go without you, so drag him by his heels if you have to. He needs a night out, and he needs you. _

For a moment, you wondered if by, “he needs you,” Morgan simply meant that Spencer needed you to go with him to feel comfortable. A different, stronger part wondered if he meant that he needed you in his life, period.

“So, I guess we’re going out tonight?” you asked.

Spencer quirked his head to the side and drew his eyebrows together. He must have realized Morgan texted you too, because he rolled his eyes and laughed.

“He’s making you go too?”

“He’s asking me to make you go. I’d go voluntarily,” you chided. And you would have. Morgan and Garcia seemed very nice, and you wanted to go out with them. Not to mention you wanted to meet the rest of the team.

Spencer sighed and nodded.

“Well, I guess I have no choice then,” he said.

“Good,” you smiled. “Go get ready, they’re picking us up soon.”

“Fine,” he said with mock dread.

His eyes lingered on your hands which were still entwined before slipping his out of yours.

“See you in an hour,” he said.

You waited for him to leave before running to your closet to figure out what to wear. You wanted to dress to impress, not only for yourself, but also for Spencer. You had only flirted lightly with him so far, and wanted to explore it further. Rifling through your closet, you found a red dress with a fairly deep neckline. You added a matching lipstick and some light makeup, and put on some black heels. You hadn’t dressed up in a while, or had friends to go out with since you moved, so it was a nice change.

By the time you were done getting ready, Morgan had texted you saying he was outside. You and Spencer exited your apartments at the same time. He was wearing his usual long sleeved shirt with a light vest, but paired with jeans and converse sneakers. His jaw dropped as he saw you, exactly the reaction you’d intended. You smiled triumphantly as he checked you out. 

“You look, um, you look very…” he struggled for words and just shook his head.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you smiled. 

He nodded, confirming that it was one.

The two of you walked down to Morgan’s car, and got in. Garcia was in the passenger seat, leaving the back seats open to the two of you.

“Where are JJ and Prentiss?” Spencer asked.

“Meeting us there,” Morgan replied. Presumably these were the other team members you would be meeting tonight.

“Hello, my delicious sunflower,” Garcia had turned to greet you. “And my favorite genius,” she greeted Spencer.

“Hey, why did she get the first greeting?” Spencer feigned indignance. 

“Because she looks like a stunning goddess, and I honor her with my flowery language.”

You chuckled at the pun and thanked her for the compliment.

Morgan drove to the bar they had planned to meet at and parked. The four of you got out of the car and headed into the bar. It was a more relaxed atmosphere than you had been expecting. The music was low enough that you could talk easily, and everyone seemed relaxed and ready to have a nice night. There were booths, tables, the bar, and a back area where some people were standing, some dancing.

String lights were hung everywhere from the ceiling, giving the place a classy, almost fantastical feel.

Walking ahead of you, Morgan and Garcia scouted the place, looking for the two other agents. Suddenly, you felt someone grab your hand. Looking over, you saw Spencer’s face was a bit pale, and he had grabbed your hand the way you’d made him promise he would. Keeping calm, you put your free hand up, and traced his jawline with your finger, carefully drawing his attention towards you. 

“Hey, I’m here. You’re here,” you reminded him quietly. 

He swallowed and took a breath, his grip on your hand loosening slightly.

“Breathe,” you reminded him. You wondered if he had been out like this since whatever happened.

Slowly, he breathed in and out, and finally some color returned to his face. 

“Good?” you asked. He nodded.

“You must be (Y/N),” you heard a female voice say to you. 

Turning, you saw a dark-haired, stunning woman had approached you. Her eyes quickly glanced down to your and Spencer’s entwined hands, but she didn’t react. It was almost as if she’d expected Spencer’s new friend to be holding him as a girlfriend would.

You glanced at Spencer before taking your hand from his to shake hers.

“I’m Emily Prentiss,” she said. “Everyone calls me Prentiss.”

“You guys are big on last names, huh?” you joked. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Prentiss laughed.

“I’m JJ,” the blonde woman next to her said. She too was quite beautiful.

“Nice to meet you,” you said. 

“You too. We’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, somewhat suggestively. 

“Good things, I hope,” you said, wondering who had said what. Spencer shot her a death glare.

“Oh yeah,” she nodded with an almost childish smile.

“We got a table over here, guys,” Morgan came through the crowd to tell you.

You followed Morgan over to a nice table near the open space. Taking a seat next to Spencer, the others followed. Garcia sat on the other side of you, and the rest filed into their seats except Morgan.

“Alright, who wants what?” Morgan asked, going to put in the drinks order at the bar.

You ordered your favorite drink, as did the others. Spencer merely requested a water. Given the stress he’d been through already this evening, you thought it best he did so. At least he wouldn’t exacerbate anything with alcohol. 

The drink you ordered was so good, you didn’t think to take your time with it. You hadn’t eaten since your early dinner, and it went to your head pretty quickly, but you were feeling pretty happy and buzzed, surrounded by interesting people.

“So how did the two of you meet again?” JJ asked. 

You were sure she already knew, but you smiled and related the entire cockroach incident, much to the delight of the team, and the chagrin of Spencer.

“What a hero,” JJ jested.

“It was quite majestic,” you laughed. 

The bar surged with noise as a group of what looked to be a bachelorette party yelled, “To Tammy and Tobias!” and drank happily after whooping.

Under the table, Spencer’s hand grasped for yours as his breathing shallowed. 

The team didn’t seem to notice this, as they were still laughing at the good-natured frivolity in the corner, but you did. You squeezed his hand and leaned over to him. You knew he didn’t want the team worrying about him, so you tried to handle it yourself first.

“You’re here, Spencer. You’re  _ here _ with me,” you whispered.

He nodded, his eyes closed. You repeated the sentiment until he opened his eyes on the third repetition, and turned to look at you. Your faces were so close, you could have easily leaned in an inch to kiss him.

“Good?” you asked.

“Good,” he confirmed.

You turned your attention back to the team to see them try to cover up that they were all just watching the two of you. So much for trying to be inconspicuous. You were beginning to wonder if this night out was too much for Spencer, but it didn’t look like he was anxious to leave. He had said he was good, and you would take him on his word for now. 

“Can I get you another drink, pretty lady?” Morgan asked you to break the bit of tension of the aftermath of Spencer’s moment.

“Sure,” you smiled. “Thanks.”

“I’ve been meaning to say, you look beautiful,” Prentiss said smiling. “Where did you get such a great dress?” she asked. 

“Oh, thanks,” you blushed. “I just found it at a thrift store actually. I’m new here, but it was one of the first places I found.”

“Really?” Garcia asked. 

You asked if she went to the store you’d found yours at, and she hadn’t heard of it.

“I’ll take you there sometime,” you promised.

“Do I sense a girls night out?” JJ asked. 

“It’s been in the works,” Garcia winked at you.

It was nice to feel so accepted by Spencer’s friends so quickly. Morgan came back with the round of drinks and you sipped this one slower.

Spencer’s hand was still in yours, despite the fact that he had said he was fine. You didn’t mind though, and in fact, your heart tingled every time you looked down at your entwined hands. You had finished your second round of drinks, and suddenly Morgan stood up.

“Shall we hit the dance floor?” he asked, looking around at everyone with an expectant look. 

More people had started moving towards the dance floor since the bar had raised the volume of the music. It wasn’t quite the club type feeling, but people seemed to be having fun. You didn’t usually dance, but you were willing to give it a shot for these lovely new friends.

Everyone stood, even though you could feel Spencer’s reluctance. The group headed to the dance floor area, and you broke out a few of your joke dance moves, doing the robot with Morgan, the cabbage patch with Garcia, and every other move you could think of with the team. Spencer bobbed to the music but didn’t dance. 

“Come on,” you laughed, taking his hands in yours. “Swing dance with me!”

He laughed despite himself, and allowed you to pull him in and out, and to dance around him in some kind of 50’s inspired dance. He was almost getting into it, and the team was cheering him on, when the music changed. A slow song came on, and the mood switched abruptly. You let your hands swing down, still with Spencer’s, as you looked at him. Would he take you in his arms and dance with you? It seemed very sudden and romantic, and you didn’t realize how badly you wanted him to do so until he slipped his hands out of yours and took a step backwards.

He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at you. The team stopped, having apparently expected the two of you to dance together, and watched as he stuttered.

“I, um, I’ll be right back,” he said, not looking at anyone.

He turned to walk away, and you watched, feeling your heart crack a little. Maybe you had been imagining all these things between the two of you. Hadn’t you been heading in this direction? It was just a dance, too. Maybe he didn’t want to lead you on?

JJ watched him for a moment before saying, “I’m going to go see what’s up.”

You nodded, along with the team. It was embarrassing to see them all turn to you as if they too felt the rejection.

“Come here,” Morgan held his arms out for you. 

You took one hand in his, and placed the other on his shoulder as he lead you in a sort of improvised waltz to the slow song. Prentiss and Garcia swayed together as you and Morgan migrated away.

“What was that?” he asked, flicking his attention to where JJ and Spencer now sat back at the table.

“What was what?” you said, hearing the weakness in your voice. 

“Come on,” he said seriously, but with a kind gaze.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Sometimes I think we’re on one course, and then he’ll just change direction without warning. It hadn’t happened in a while though.”

You realized you felt safe with Morgan. His arms were around you, but he was keeping a respective distance between you, and you felt that he was there for you. You felt safe both physically and emotionally.

“He’s going through a lot right now,” Morgan said. 

You nodded.

“He’s told you?” Morgan asked.

“Not really,” you admitted. “Just that he was taken during a case.”

Morgan nodded. 

“That kid has seen some shit, and been through some hell,” he said. “It happened a few months ago, and you know what?” he asked. You shook your head. “I think he’s improved more in the week he’s known you, than he has in the months since he’s been on leave.”

You felt your stomach drop. You were responsible for Spencer getting better than he had in months? Suddenly you felt very responsible for him. That was a lot to lay on one person.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think he’s just figuring some stuff out,” you said.

“Uh-uh,” Morgan said. “The way he talks about you… He’s finally excited about something. I haven't seen that in a long time. Even before everything happened.”

Morgan’s eyes were intense. He wanted you to realize how important you were to his friend. He seemed to be saying that despite Spencer’s faltering and sputtering, he needed you.

“Did you come up with that hand holding thing?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” you were taken aback. You knew that Prentiss had seen you, but you didn’t think anyone else had noticed, or known that it was happening for a specific reason. Even at the table, you thought they were just looking at the two of you talking.

“You know, for when he has those moments,” he said.

Morgan’s manner was so relaxed, you couldn’t help but feel like you had known him for years.

“Yeah, it was my idea,” you admitted. It wasn’t actually surprising that he had noticed, you realized. That was his job after all.

“Smart,” he said.

You shrugged. 

“I just wanted him to know he doesn’t have to go through this alone.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Why’s that funny?” you asked.

“Because he actually listened to  _ you _ ,” he said.

You swallowed. Of course other people had tried to be there for him. He had this whole team of expertly trained friends who would do anything for him. Yet he trusted you, a woman he had only known for a few days, more than them with his worst problem.

The song ended, and Morgan released his hands from your hand and waist. You let your hands fall to your sides. 

“Should we go back and join them at the table?” Prentiss asked, walking over.

“Sure,” you said.

You weren’t sure how to act around Spencer at the moment though. He had seemingly wanted no sort of romantic attachment, and yet Morgan seemed to be implying that he wanted just that. Did it scare Spencer? Or did he just want a friendship out of this?

Feeling confused, you sat down at your place next to Spencer. It was getting late at this point, so the team decided to do one more round before heading out. Spencer remained quietly seated beside you, never reaching for your hand, even though you felt him tense up a few times beside you.

Eventually, you said your goodnights and went your separate ways. Morgan brought you, Spencer, and Garcia in his car. 

“Don’t forget about girls night!” Garcia reminded you as you said your goodbyes.

“Have a good rest of your night,” Morgan said.

You and Spencer walked in awkward silence up to your floor. It was maddening not knowing what he was thinking. You were about to say goodnight and put your key in your door when he spoke.

“Would you, um, come inside with me?” he asked. “Just for a minute.”

His eyes were wide and pleading, and you couldn’t have said no even if you had wanted to.

“Sure,” you said, wondering what this could possibly be. 

You could hear he was trying to breathe evenly, but he didn’t seem to be having any sort of attack.

He unlocked his phone, typed and clicked a few things, and suddenly, the slow song from the bar came on. He laid his phone on the table next to the door and stood nervously in front of you. Smoothing his hair with his hand, and then returning it to wring his hands together, he spoke quietly.

“I should have asked you this when we were out, but I was… I was too scared,” he laughed at himself. “I have a gun, and chase down murderers, but I was too scared to ask you to dance with me tonight. And if I don’t do this now, I think I’ll regret it forever.”

He moved closer to you, extending his hands.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked.

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face.

“Yes,” you said.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist. At first he allowed some distance between the two of you, but soon you migrated closer together. You felt your chest brush against his, and settle against him. You rested your head under his chin and held him to you.

For a few moments, you simply swayed. Completely wrapped up in the smell, the touch, the feel of him, you closed your eyes. It felt like seconds, but the song had finished and silence filled the room. You leaned back to look up at his face. He was looking down at you, a small, gentle smile on his lips. His eyes seemed lighter and his hands seemed more sure of their placement on your lower back. For a moment you thought he might kiss you, and for more than a moment, you wanted him too. 

But then Spencer’s eyes fell as his hands moved from your back to find your hands. He held them in his.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For being there for me tonight.”

“Of course,” you said. “Always.”

“I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

“Oh, I don’t know, you’re strong.”

He shook his head. 

“I don’t know sometimes,” he said. 

“Why didn’t you take my hand the last few times?” you asked. “I felt you tensing up beside me.”

He almost looked impressed at this, as if he thought he had hidden it completely.

“I didn’t think I deserved it,” he said. 

“Just because you were scared to ask me to dance?” you asked.

He sighed.

“Because I was scared to ask you for anything,” he said. “I’ve never… relied on another person before. I’ve never needed someone so much. With you, the bad thoughts just went away when I took your hand… I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” you promised. 

He gave a sad smile and nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. 

“You have a whole support system around you,” you reminded him, thinking of his team. “Don’t shut them out.”

He nodded again.

“I know,” he voice nearly cracked. 

“Thank you for asking me to dance,” you added with a smile, stepping back from him. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too,” he let go of your hands.

“Let’s do it again some time.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Maybe next time I’ll save you from having to dance with Morgan,” he chuckled. 

“Oh yeah, that was  _ awful,” _ you joked. 

Of course it hadn’t been awful, but it also hadn't been who you’d wanted.

“It’s late, I should go,” you said, half-hoping that he would stop you. 

But he simply nodded and began to walk you to the door. 

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said, longing not to walk through that door and leave him.

“Night,” he said softly, like a prayer. 

You stepped out into the hallway as he closed the door. Walking back to your apartment, you could still hear the slow song in your head, and feel his hands on your body.


	5. Chapter 5

The week got busy for you, and you found yourself writing more than anything else. By the end of it, you’d seen Spencer only twice when you happened to bump into each other going coming and going from your apartments. Both interactions were nice, but short. You wanted to spend more time with him, especially every time you thought of that dance, but you just didn’t have time. Once you finished these few articles, you could figure things out.

You wondered how he was doing. He hadn’t contacted you or come to you with anything, and you wondered if sometimes he wanted to reach out for you, but you weren’t there.

As you finished up your work later in the week, you resolved to see him the following day and make sure he was doing okay. That night you had rewarded yourself with some quality Netflix later in the night than you usually stayed up.

At first, when you heard a loud voice, you thought it might be some weird acoustics from your laptop. But then, coming from Spencer’s apartment, you could clearly hear screaming. Your two apartments were the only ones on this side of the hallway. No one else was in the immediate area to hear anything. You wondered if someone was in Spencer’s apartment, trying to steal something or hurt him. You listened more, and realized he was having a nightmare. There was no one else in there with him. 

You thought about ignoring it, letting him get through it on his own, but the sounds were so violent, so desperate, that you couldn’t let him endure this dream any more. Getting up and ignoring your near-naked state, you walked out into the hallway in your bra and panties to bang as loud as you could on Spencer’s door. 

“Spencer! Wake up!” you yelled a few times between your knocking.

It took a few tries, but the screaming stopped. You wondered vaguely if anyone had called the police because of the noise. The floors and ceilings were pretty thick, so it was likely you were the only one who had heard anything. More likely, they were used to this noise from his room.

Soon, you heard heavy footsteps make their way to the door. Suddenly aware of your clothing satus, you wrapped your arms around yourself in a futile attempt at some modesty.

Spencer opened the door with red eyes, messy hair, and generally shaken appearance. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. “I could hear you screaming in your sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. He kept the door partially closed as if he were trying to keep you from rushing inside. 

“You’re not fine,” you said. “Can I come in?”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know, around two?” you guessed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed?”

It was then that his eyes slid down your body, the most skin he’d ever seen of you, and he blushed. 

“No, I want to make sure you’re okay,” you said. “And can I maybe borrow a dressing gown? I kind of rushed over here.”

You lightly pushed the door and he backed up, letting you in and walking to his closet to get a robe for you. Putting it on, you took his hand and led him to his couch.

Sitting down, and keeping his hand in yours, you spoke softly to him.

“You have to talk to someone,” you said. “I’m sure Morgan or anyone on the team would take your call.”

“They would,” he agreed. “But I can’t talk to them.”

“Why not?” you asked. “They’re all basically trained psychologists.”

“I know,” he smiled ironically. 

“You just need a friend,” you noted. “Someone who’s not going to analyze you.”

He nodded and looked down at your hands. It felt good to have contact with him. After only a week of not touching, you had missed his skin.

“I could be that person,” you offered sincerely. “You could talk to me. I won’t tell them anything you don’t want me to. I’ll just listen.”

He shook his head.

“I couldn’t put that on you.”

“You’re not putting it on me, you’re taking it off your shoulders,” you said.

“There’s a lot of stuff,” he said. “It’s late.”

“Do I look like I care?” you asked. “I’m here. You’re here. If you want to talk I will listen.”

He sighed deeply and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling.

“It was my fault,” he said softly.

You could tell he was about to tell you everything, and you settled in, ready for the long haul.

“JJ and I found where this unsub was hiding, Tobias Hankle. We should have waited for backup, but I was so… stupid. I thought we could split up and handle him, but we separated, and he found me in the corn field. He drugged me and took me to a cabin.”

“I am so sorry,” your voice was distant, wrapped up in his story. 

“Tobias had three separate personalities. One was himself, another his father, and another an angel called Raphael. Tobias was nice,” he almost smiled. “But the other two were not.”

His eyes were far away, back in that cabin. You took one of your hands to hold his face, caressing his cheek.

“You with me?” you asked, after a small silence.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly. “Then what happened?”

He took a deep breath. 

“The father personality would punish me for sins he thought I committed. He… beat me a lot.”

You squeezed his hand to show your support.

“But Tobias would come back and he would give me this mixture. It was Dilaudid and a psychedelic drug. It helped with the pain but it brought up some childhood memories I’d rather forget,” he said. “And then…” he trailed off, lost in the memory.

“And then?” you prompted him after a few moments of silence.

“He made me choose,” he said grimly. “I had to choose which one of three women was going to live, and which he was going to kill.”

You could see his eyes nearly flooding with tears before they finally spilled out. You carefully wiped each away with your finger.

“And I tried not to, but he kept hurting me… So I just picked one.”

He lost it then, and his shoulders began to shake. You leaned forward and took him in your arms, holding him, rocking him.

“It’s not your fault,” you said. Doubtless many had told him this, but you couldn’t not say it.

“I chose that woman. She had family,” he said. 

“You didn’t kill that woman, he did,” you said.

“It doesn’t feel like that,” he said.

You nodded, not about to tell him his feelings were invalid.

“Eventually the team came. He was making me dig my own grave. And we struggled… And I shot him. He just laid there, and I stayed with him. He looked… peaceful. And then I stole the rest of the drugs from his pockets,” he said.

It was a lot to take in, especially from someone you’d only known as kind and timid. You listened without judgement as he continued.

“I ran out of it, of course, and I’m sober now after going through pretty bad withdrawals… But I still think about it all the time. And I still see his eyes as I watched the life drain out of them. A life I took.”

The tears were still falling, and you were doing your best to try to wipe them from his beautiful face.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you said, unsure how to react. 

He had just laid everything out on the table for you. You brushed a hand through his hair and tucked it behind his ear. 

“Does it get any easier as time passes?” you asked.

“I have an eidetic memory,” he explained. “I remember  _ everything _ .”

You sighed and shook your head.

“A gift and a curse,” you said. “Spencer, your mind may plague you with these memories, but it is also capable of remembering  _ good  _ things too, not to mention building new good things to remember.”

He nodded. 

“After everything happened, one of our team leaders, Gideon left. He was always there for me, and now he’s just gone.”

“Did he quit?” you asked.

“Yes, but he didn’t tell anyone. He just left a note. For me… and he hasn’t come back.”

You nodded, it was more than a lot to deal with, you thought. No wonder he was having these nightmares and flashbacks.

He sighed, a long, deep sound.

“I’ve never said all of that out loud,” he said. “I wrote down my report, and I said what I needed to to the psychologist, but I never admitted all of that…”

“Does it help?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

You nodded. You wiped the last tear from his face. As you pulled your hand away, he caught it in his.

“Thank you for listening,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” you said, feeling your heart lurch towards him as if it wanted to escape your chest and live in his.

Reflecting on everything he had said, you felt immense sympathy. You knew he had been taken, but to go through that, torture, a drug addiction, and the loss of a mentor was something else entirely.

It was then that something dawned on you.

“Is that why you wear long sleeves all the time?” you asked. “Because the drug was given intravenously?”

He nodded. Rolling up his right sleeve, he showed you the marks from where the needles had found his bloodstream. Your fingers hovered over them while you asked permission with your eyes. He nodded slightly and you brushed your fingertips over the fading scars.

He shivered slightly at your touch, but didn’t move away.

“These are your strength,” you said softly. You didn’t know why, but the thought had come to you.

“What?” he asked. “How?”

“These show you what you’ve survived, what you can keep surviving. These, and whatever other scars you have from him, show you that you are alive.”

He looked at you dubiously, glancing down at his scars.

“I think they’re beautiful,” you said. He again looked doubtful. “Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic,” you quoted.

“Oscar Wilde,” he gave a soft smile.

You nodded. Your fingers traced lines between his scars, drawing abstract shapes. 

“Sometimes I get tired of it though,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“What?” you asked.

“Tragedy,” he said.

And you saw then, the weight in his eyes. Countless deaths, children crying for their lost parents, blood, pain, it was all there. You wanted so much to lessen the horrible things he’d seen, but you couldn’t. You just held his hand in yours and took a deep breath.

“You could quit,” you offered. 

He shook his head.

“Too many lives to save.”

You smiled a little.

“There are a lot of ways to save lives,” you said. 

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to, you understood.

“What time is it?” he asked after a long silence.

“About three,” you said. 

“You should go to sleep,” he said. 

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s go.”

Standing up, you didn’t drop his hand. His eyes searched your face for what he didn’t seem to understand.

“Let’s, as in let  _ us? _ ” he asked.

“Do you think I’m leaving you alone tonight?” you asked.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. Licking his lips, he looked up at you.

“You’re going to stay with me?” he asked.

“Don’t tell Garcia we had another slumber party without her,” you smiled.

He laughed.

“As long as you don’t tell Morgan. I don’t think I could handle the amount of arching his eyebrows would do.”

You both looked at each other then. You knew what Morgan thought about the two of you, what he wanted for his friend. Morgan seemed to think you were good for each other, and so did you. Whether or not that goodness extended past a close friendship for Spencer was something you still hadn’t figured out.

Sometimes, like now, the way he looked at you made it seem like there might be something more to explore, but you were never sure enough to act on it.

“Come on,” you said, tugging his hand lightly.

He stood obediently and followed you into his bedroom. You hadn’t been in here, and could only see the outlines of objects from the light of the moon through the window. The bed was easy enough to find, however, and you let go of his hand so he could climb into it.

“We’re both sleeping in here?” he verified.

“Unless you’d like to sleep on the couch again. Thought this was a bit roomier.”

You smiled at his coyness and watched as he nodded and got into bed.

He settled into the covers and looked over at you. You almost melted then. The way he lay there, so vulnerable, so open to you, was dizzying. You shed the dressing gown slowly, and could feel his eyes on you. As quickly as they had washed over your body, they were gone, and when you turned to see him again, he was looking down at his hands. 

You climbed into bed next to him, a few inches from him. It felt very intimate to be with Spencer in his bed half naked, as perhaps it should, but not in the way you would have thought. While your mind did drift to potentially physical thoughts, you focused more on the sense of how much he just needed someone beside him. He needed someone to hold him, to keep the nightmares at bay.

He needed you.

You grabbed his hand and guided it around you as you turned to lay on your side. As you helped him wrap himself around you, you felt more at home in this place than you had in a long time. He seemed tense at first, not because he didn’t want to spoon you, but because even though you were guiding him to do so, he wanted to make sure it was what you wanted.

“You don’t have to--”

“Are you uncomfortable?” you asked, feeling his body relax behind you as you said it.

“No… Are you?” he asked, his voice a little shaky. You wondered not for the first time, how far he’d ever been with a woman.

“No,” you laughed. 

You laced your fingers with his and made sure he held you tightly.

“Just hold on to me and wake me if you need to,” you said. 

Spencer rested his head on his pillow and slowly nestled against your hair, breathing you in. His breath evened out as he fell asleep, laying there in the moonlight with you.


	6. Chapter 6

Spencer had somehow managed to tangle himself in you in almost every way possible during the night. Waking up, you found your legs woven together, and his fingers laced with yours. He had pulled you even tighter to him than when you’d fallen asleep. 

His breath was still even and calm when you woke, and you slowly wondered why it was that you felt so safe and wonderful. Realizing Spencer was the reason, you did your best not to move, lest you wake him and break the spell. His breath moved your hair across your neck and tickled you. 

You only had a few moments to try to memorize this feeling of complete security before Spencer woke up and broke your thoughts. You heard him yawn and he squeezed you against him as he stretched. As he became fully awake, he released your hand, unwound his legs, and sat up next to you. You stretched and yawned as well, feeling the drowsiness in your muscles from a deep night’s sleep.

Rolling over to see him, you smiled groggily, sitting up. Neither of you had set an alarm, so it was late morning now, and the sun made its way through the curtains and under the blinds to greet you.

“Morning,” you offered the slightly self-conscious looking Spencer. 

He had drawn his knees to his chest and seemed to look almost afraid of you for some reason. Perhaps seeing you in so little clothes in the morning made him feel uncomfortable.

“Good morning,” he said, a smile gracing his face.

“You slept?” you guessed from the lack of screaming.

He nodded. 

“Still some nightmares, but not nearly as bad,” he admitted. “Nowhere near as bad. The most peaceful sleep I’ve had since…”

He trailed off, but you knew he hadn’t slept since the night you’d fallen asleep together on his couch.

“Good,” you said. He nodded again.

Too lazy to get up, you flopped back down on the bed, looking up at him. He seemed incredibly happy, if a little skittish of you. You could only imagine what it finally felt like to sleep soundly after months of unrest.

“What are you doing today?” you asked, having nothing on the agenda yourself and dreading your empty apartment.

“Not much till later,” he answered.

“Wanna hang out?” you asked. You didn’t bother asking what he had going on later. If he wanted to tell you, he would.

“You want to stay?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s what hang out means,” you laughed. “Unless you want to kick me out, which is totally fine,” you added.

“No, no I don’t want to kick you out,” he responded eagerly. “I just didn’t know if you’d really want to stay.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. “I think you keep forgetting that we’re friends and I enjoy your company.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. He didn’t say it, but you were sure he was thinking that not many people usually did want to stay. “Should we get breakfast?” he asked.

You groaned and rolled on your back.

“That would involve moving,” you complained. 

“Mostly anything we would do today will involve moving,” he observed.

“True,” you agreed. 

“I could bring you breakfast,” he offered.

Breakfast in bed. You couldn’t be more of a couple if you tried at the moment, and yet you hadn’t even kissed. Watching him, you saw that he truly wanted to treat you. He must have felt like he owed you for finally allowing him to sleep last night.

“Or I could help you,” you offered. “And by help I mean sit on the counter and watch you while providing amusing commentary?”

He chuckled, looking down at the sheets and then back at you. There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t read. It felt like a question he was asking but not voicing. 

“Deal,” he said, breaking your concentration of decrypting his gaze.

With your plan, you got up and donned the rob he had lent you the night before and followed him out into the kitchen. True to your word, you popped up to sit on the counter as he went about grabbing a few things to make some omelets. 

He seemed skilled for someone you knew traveled a lot and probably didn’t have a lot of time to cook.

“Can I show you something?” he asked, almost mischievously. 

“Sure,” you answered, intrigued.

He held out his empty hand, palm up, and closed it. When he opened it, and egg appear right before your eye. Before you could gasp, he closed his hand and wiggled his fingers and the egg was gone.

“What the what?!” you exclaimed, not even trying to hide the smile on your face. “You’re a magician!”

He chuckled and made the egg appear again, only to crack it against a bowl and dump it in.

“Amateur,” he modified.

You shook your head.

“You’re a magician,” you decided. “No amatuer about it.”

“Well, I try.”

He mixed the eggs together and began making the omelets. You watched and commented as he did so, finding yourself laughing with him more and more easily. His smile was brighter than the sunshine coming in through the kitchen window, and it was contagious. The two of you couldn’t stop smiling and laughing as you ate breakfast together. He seemed to be a completely changed man. Of course his history must still have haunted him, but he seemed lighter after the previous evening, slightly less burdened.

After breakfast, you wandered around his apartment looking at all of his books. While a fair amount were either technical or in another language, you found a lot of titles that were in your collection as well. Some you found that you didn’t recognize, and he offered to lend them to you. You offered any of yours that he wanted as well, and he seemed interested. 

Bringing him over to your place, you let him sift through the piles of books in your room while you changed. Putting on an old t-shirt and shorts, you joined him on the floor while he was flipping through an old Steinbeck novel. At first you thought he was flipping, but then you realized, he was reading. His lips were moving slightly and his finger was grazing a path down each page. You waited until he had finished the thin book.

“You just read that whole thing, didn’t you?” you asked.   
He looked like he might want to refute this allegation, but he sighed and nodded.

“That’s amazing,” you shook your head. “You’re something special, you know that?” you asked.

He smiled sardonically.

“I think many of my high school classmates would have disagreed with you,” he said. 

“You were bullied,” you sighed. He nodded.

“A bit,” he said, and you could tell there was a lot of history in that understatement.

“Whatever they said, whatever names they called you… Unless they were ‘brilliant,’ ‘incredible,’ or ‘astonishing,’ they were wrong,” you said. 

The corner of his mouth turned up and he seemed in awe of you at the moment.

“Why do you think that?” he asked.

“Because it’s true,” you said evenly. 

“Well, I think you’re brilliant too,” he said softly.

“I can’t read a book in two seconds and remember every word after I read it,” you pointed out. “Or make an egg disappear without eating it.”

Spencer chuckled a little and shook his head.

“Maybe not, but I have yet to find someone as astute and intuitive as you,” he said.

You blushed and looked down at your hands.

“Thank you,” you said softly. 

The two of you went back to sifting through books in silence, and you found yourself leaning into him subconsciously.

You parted ways around lunch time, and you found yourself busy with research for a new article to pass the time. After dinner, you heard his door open and shut, followed by his feet padding down the hallway. He hadn’t told you where he was going and you hadn’t pressed it. While you were breaking down some of those walls between you, there was certainly still an aspect of privacy for each of you. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder where he was headed, and whether or not you would join him one day.

He came home a few hours later as you were cleaning some dishes in the sink. Instead of walking into his apartment, however, he hesitated in the hallway before knocking on your door.

Drying your hands, you walked quickly to open the door. Spencer looked nice. He had changed since you’d seen him and he was wearing a short sleeved shirt with his pants and converse.

“Hi,” he greeted with a nervous smile, shifting on his feet.

“Hi,” you responded. “Nice shirt.”

Although you didn’t say it, you were proud of him for showing his scars, even if no one would notice them unless they looked. He was making himself vulnerable, something he hadn’t done until now. You didn’t want to draw attention to this and unintentionally embarrass him, but you could tell by the look on his face that he knew what you meant by the compliment.

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling more… comfortable lately,” he said.

Again there was an undertone to his statement that you were the reason he was feeling this comfortable. You smiled at his obvious progress.

“Good,” you said. 

You glanced behind you at the kitchen clock and saw it was getting pretty late. Looking at your shoes, you tried to decide whether asking if he needed you to sleep beside him again would weaken his confidence. 

“What are you doing tonight?” you asked as a sort of compromise.

He cleared his throat and moved his weight from one foot to the other.

“Not too much,” he said. “I, um, was wondering if you would… It’s just that I sleep much better with…”

He trailed off, unable to find the words for the proper request.

“Another slumber party?” you smiled. He nodded. “I’d be glad to,” you assured him.

And you were glad to, excited to, even. You found that you slept better in his arms than you did on your own. Plus, the more time you spent with him, the more you comfortable you were with the idea of progressing your relationship further.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. 

“Let me just put on some PJ’s and I’ll be over soon, okay?” you asked.

He nodded and smiled, heading inside his apartment. You went inside and got ready for bed, bringing your pillow with you. You also grabbed some cookies you’d recently gotten on an impulse buy.

Knocking on his door, you heard a clambering, some stuff being knocked over, and then the door handle as he turned it. Opening the door, Spencer revealed himself to be shirtless, a dressing gown hastily thrown on, wearing only boxers. He had clearly not anticipated your changing so quickly. The wide expanse of skin before you was like a magnet. Your eyes drifted down, looking at the surprisingly toned chest of the FBI agent. Catching yourself, you managed to smile at him. You’d donned a large t-shirt and shorts.

“Hi, sorry, I was just getting changed, I can--”

“Whatever you’re comfortable in,” you smiled, uncaring if he slept naked, you realized. 

He seemed to relax at this, and you walked in past him.

“Want a cookie?” you asked. 

He smiled and took the treat as you took one as well. You placed the cookies on the table. The bedroom suddenly seemed taboo, and you couldn’t look at it without blushing. For some reason, although you hadn’t even kissed yet, sleeping beside Spencer to guard him from his nightmares seemed even more intimate. Last night it had been done almost out of necessity, this time it was voluntary, and that was more pressure. What if your presence didn’t calm him? What if he still had extremely violent nightmares that you were powerless to stop?

“You tired?” you asked, as, coincidentally, he began to yawn. You chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Walking, your hand instinctively gravitated for his, and you led him once again into his own bedroom. The lights were off, but you knew the way now, and shifted under the sheets as he slid in beside you. It was almost like breathing, the way you settle down and he wrapped himself around you. It felt like you were becoming whole the way his body melded against yours.

“What do you want to dream about tonight?” you whispered. 

You felt his nose brush the back of your neck and you nearly shivered at the pleasantness. 

“Anything but that cabin,” he said honestly.

“Sometimes if you tell your brain what you want to dream about, it works,” you said. “Sometimes I try to lucid dream.”

“That’s incredibly difficult,” Spencer noted.

“Yeah, it doesn’t always work, but sometimes I can get a general theme if I try before I sleep.”

“What do you choose to dream about?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, flying, exploring, stuff like that.”

“Sounds nice,” his voice was wispy with sleep.

“Mmm,” you agreed sleepily.

“I’d like to dream of this,” he said, hugging you close. From the easiness of his voice you could tell he was already half asleep, not sifting his ideas through his self-conscious filter. 

You smiled.

“Me too,” you said, before both of you were lost to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

After that second night together, it somehow became an unspoken agreement that, unless something came up, which it hadn’t so far, the two of you would spend the night together. After about a week of this, you had started feeling far more comfortable with Spencer during the day. Small touches that would have made your stomach tingle with nervousness had become second nature. You’d find your hand in his while you were sitting together, or walking down the street. These natural touches seemed to make him an extension of yourself, as he was quickly becoming. Despite the lack of any other romantic signs of affections, you still felt yourself having deeper feelings than friendship. You hadn’t brought these feelings up with Spencer for a number of reasons, the most prominent being not to pressure him when he was doing so well in his recovery. The second was that you were scared. While he seemed to enjoy holding you and touching you, kissing and other physical adventures of the kind were another deal. For the time being, you were content to stay where you were and let things progress without interference.

One morning, while you lay in Spencer’s bed, his phone went off. He answered it, and when he hung up, he informed you that he had to go into the office. He didn’t give a reason, but you assumed it was probably some kind of mandatory psychological check up. He had been on leave for a few months now. You weren’t sure how long these things were supposed to last, but it made sense they would check in now and again.

You walked with him to the door once he had gotten ready. You were glad he’d gained enough confidence to wear short sleeves since the heat was really starting to hit the area. You stood with him by the door and straightened his tie for him.

“Call me if you need anything,” you offered.   
“I will,” he smiled.

You placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him. He was looking down at you with adoration and amusement.

You could have said any number of things in that moment. You could have told him how beautiful he looked right now. You could have told him how your world had somehow come to revolve just a little more around him than anything else. You could have said that you were nervous, that you had never felt like this before, let alone so quickly, or that the thought of letting him down was simply terrifying.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t say anything.

And neither did he.

You simply leaned in as he did, and kissed.

Your lips touched, tentatively at first, and then fully. His hands cupped your face, and you ran your hand through his hair, holding on as your head swirled with the sensation.

He was everything in that moment, and just as soon as it had started, you both pulled away. Checking the other’s reaction, you both smiled sheepishly.

You hadn’t planned, or even anticipated this until it had happened, and here you were now. You felt… good. It had just felt like the right thing to do in that moment, and now, watching the smile spread on his lips, you saw he felt the same way.

“Well, um, good luck,” you blushed. “Call me later.”

“I will,” he said, his voice strained with excitement. 

You swiftly exited his apartment and swept into yours, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, breathing deeply. Your heart, you realized, was fluttering, and your cheeks were hot. You listened to his footsteps across the hallway and out of earshot.

Just then, your phone went off. Thinking it might be Spencer, you rummaged in your pocket and found that it was actually Garcia.

_ Hey, girlfriend, ladies night tonight? _

You smiled and eagerly typed an affirmative response. You made plans to meet at a nearby bar with JJ and Prentiss around eight. 

The day went pretty quickly as you researched and started writing a big article for an editor who’d recently contacted you. Spencer had come home in the middle of the day and sent a text assuring you that all was well. You told him about your plans, but promised to be home not too late for your usual sleeping arrangement. 

You suddenly got nervous thinking about that. Would anything change since you had kissed? Would he be uncomfortable, or would he expect more now? You had no idea, and no way to know until tonight. You weren’t dreading it, but you were excited to see where this could possibly lead.

The bar was within walking distance of your apartment, so you made your way down the few blocks to the meeting place. The three girls had arrived together and were waiting for you with eager smiles.

“Hi!” Garcia greeted, wrapping you up in a tight, slightly bouncing hug.

“Hi,” you laughed at her enthusiasm. “Thanks for inviting me,” you added.

“Of course!” she smiled.

You hugged and greeted JJ and Prentiss as well, and found their smiles inviting and friendly. You walked into the bar with them and found a small booth in the back. You chatted easily until you got your drinks, and then came the questions you’d been both dreading, and dying to discuss.

“So, how are things with Spencer?” JJ asked, her eyebrows lifting suggestively. 

You laughed uncomfortably.

“I don’t know, good I guess,” you answered.

“We saw him today,” Prentiss said, smiling. “He looked good.”

“He looked great,” Garcia said. “What did you do to him?” 

“I don’t know,” you laughed.

“Well, keep it up. He’s almost back to his old self,” JJ said. 

“He wore a short sleeved shirt,” Prentiss noted.

“What does that mean?” Garcia asked.

Prentiss looked at you to see if you knew what it meant. You pointed to where his scars from the injections were, and she gasped.

“Oh, right,” she said. 

“He told you about all that?” Prentiss asked. It wasn’t accusatory or surprised, she seemed impressed. Perhaps she should have been surprised. You really hadn’t known each other that long, and yet he had told you things he said he’d never told anyone before.

“Yeah… We sort of had to talk about it,” you said, unsure how much of his situation you should reveal.

“What do you mean?” JJ asked.

“I’m sure you know he has nightmares,” you said. They nodded. “I heard him screaming one night and went over and… When I  _ stayed _ over, they sort of stopped… So I’ve been staying with him at nights… Not like  _ that, _ ” you promised, “But just sleeping beside him… And it helps.”

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Garcia melted. 

JJ and Prentiss’ eyes were equally soft as they smiled at what you were doing for their friend.

“It’s… nice,” you admitted. “And this morning we… We kissed for the first time.”

You listened to the squeals of excitement and were grateful you had this group of girls to talk with. It could get messy in your head sometimes, and they seemed to think that this was a good direction to be heading in. That was what your heart said too, but you had learned not to always listen to it.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Garcia asked.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Has he… dated before?”

The girls looked at each other to see if anyone knew the answer.

“I don’t know,” Prentiss admitted. The others shook their heads in accordance.

“Is that what you want?” JJ asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I think so. I just don’t want to get in the way of whatever progress he’s making.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Prentiss said. When you looked confused she added, “I think you’re the reason for the progress.”

Blushing, you looked down at your drink.

“He’s sorting through a lot on his own,” you said. “But I’m glad to help where I can.”

“Cheers to Boy Genius’ health!” Garcia raised her glass.

You and the two other girls joined her in toasting and drinking.

“Now, who’s up for darts?” JJ asked.

The rest of the night was fun and relaxed. A few guys approached you, but the ladies always let them know that you were taken before you could even think of an excuse. Considering yourself taken wasn’t that far fetched. While you weren’t officially dating Spencer, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else at the moment.

By midnight, you decided to make your excuses to get home to Spencer. They offered to walk you home and call a cab from there, and you obliged. Having three badass FBI ladies walk you home was probably one of the highlights of your life.

You said goodbye to each of them and they wished you a goodnight and asked to give their best to Spencer. Once you got inside, you texted Spencer that you’d be over in a few minutes. Your heart fluttered thinking about seeing him again, and you got ready quickly.

Knocking on the door, it almost immediately flew open. Spencer was wearing an old t-shirt and boxer shorts. He grinned as you stepped inside. 

You were expecting some kind of awkwardness, some kind of feeling of expectation lingering from the kiss, but there was nothing. There was only that same, natural ease you had begun to feel with him.

“How was ladies night?” he asked.

“Really fun,” you smiled. “Your friends are very nice.”

“I think they’re your friends now, too,” he laughed.

“I guess so!” you agreed.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, stepping towards you.

“I miss you too,” you smiled.

You stepped to close the distance between you as your heart started to flutter. You watched his right hand come up and he brushed his thumb across your cheek as he cupped your face. He looked down at you with everything you’d ever want from someone’s gaze.

He leaned in tentatively, slowly, and you let him take his time as he brought his lips to yours. He seemed to be testing you, to make sure you were real and not some kind of dream. His lips parted and he kissed you tenderly while he brought his left hand to the small of your back. The tingling inside you felt like every cell you had was exploding.

He pulled away after your head had begun to spin, and rested his forehead against yours, sighing. You said nothing else as he slipped his hand into yours and began to walk to the bedroom.

Per your usual routine, you climbed into bed with him, and he nestled in behind you. Right as you were drifting to sleep, you felt him gently kiss your neck. You smiled to yourself as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Expecting to feel his arms around you when you woke up, you were surprised to realize you were in Spencer’s bed alone. Stretching and blinking, you looked around the empty room, your gaze falling on the open door. Leaning over the bed, you could see Spencer with his head in his hands at the kitchen table. You didn’t recall any screaming or even any unease in his sleep last night, so you didn’t think it was a nightmare that had him in this clear state of unease.

Getting up, you padded out into the kitchen and kissed his cheek. His head rose out of his hands and he looked at you with a sad smile.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” he said. His smile confused you. It seemed in great contrast with the sadness and dread in every other part of him.

“What is it then?” you asked, taking the seat next to him. 

“It’s this,” he said, gesturing between the two of you.

You didn’t say anything as you waited for him to explain.

“I can’t… I can’t not tell you what this is,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him.

“It’s commonly referred to as Florence Nightingale Syndrome,” he said, and you could hear the sadness dripping from his voice.

“You mean like when nurses fall in love with their patients?” you asked, unsure what he was going on about. He nodded. 

“Your… attachment to me is merely a reaction to helping get through all this,” he said almost clinically.

You let out a laugh. He looked at you, confused.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. 

“That you believe that I like you just because you’re going through some shit,” you said, almost amused, but edging on terror. What if he truly believed this? You thought you were headed somewhere wonderful with him.

“You see that I’m vulnerable and you want to take care of me,” he said. “Those feelings of interest aren’t in me, they’re in the situation.”

“What, so I can’t like your personality because you have nightmares?” you asked incredulously. 

“It seems highly unlikely,” he said, and your heart sank. Did he really think so little of himself?   
“Why?” you asked.

It was his turn to laugh skeptically. His eyes roamed quickly over your body and he shook his head.

“Why else would this be happening?” he asked. 

It wasn’t deliberate self deprecation. He wasn’t fishing for anything. He truly believed that you were under some kind of delusion, and this was the only logical reason why you would choose to spend time with him.

You stared at him, astonished that he was thinking these things. 

“Where is this coming from?” you asked, thinking of the kisses you’d shared and the easiness of the previous night.

“Nowhere,” he shifted in his seat.

“Spencer,” you warned him.

He sighed deeply.

“I’ve never felt this… happy before,” he said quietly. “So there must be some kind of catch.”

Your heart sank in your chest. Had he truly never had a good thing with no strings attached before?

You took his hand in yours. At first he flinched, unsure if he should allow himself this small pleasure. However, he soon relaxed and took a deep breath.

“There’s no catch,” you promised. You waited until he would look you in the eye. “I liked you before you told me everything, before I knew what was really going on with you,” you said. 

“Really?” he asked.

“Well, maybe after you put your gun down,” you smiled. His lips twitched upwards. “And I don’t know where this will lead to, but I would like to give it a try if you would.”

He swallowed and gazed at your hands.

“I’m not sure I’m quite the relationship type,” he said. Thinking he meant commitment wise, and wondering how many people he wanted to see at one time, you looked at him, confused. “I mean, I’m… I’m socially awkward, I’ve read more books than are in most libraries, and I look like a drowned rat when I’m wet,” he laughed ironically.

“Oh my god,” you shook your head. “You just described my perfect man.”

You smiled at him as you waited for him to understand. While you didn’t mind his awkwardness, nor believe he looked like anything other than deliciousness when sopping wet, you were willing to take him, flaws and all if he would do the same for you. His expression lightened and he began to smile a little.

“I mean, as long as you’ll have me: a chocoholic bibliophile with an addiction to binge watching unnecessary shows on Netflix.”

“You just described my perfect woman,” he smiled shyly.

You stood up just enough to take a step forward and kiss him. Your took your hands from his in favor of running them through his hair as you straddled his lap. He was taken aback by this sudden advancement and tensed, only relaxing when you coaxed your tongue into his mouth.

His hands, nearly shaking, rested on your hips. You kissed him until your lips felt like they might explode. Pulling away, you tilted his head back slightly with your hold on his hair. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked before smiling as his gaze settled on your eyes.

“So, you like me then?” he jested. You laughed as you kissed him once more, sliding off his lap to poke around the kitchen.

“I’d like you even more if we made some breakfast,” you said, feeling your stomach growling.

“That can be done,” he said, standing and coming to hold you from behind as you searched through the cabinets. 

You felt one of his hands slide along your hip to rest there, and with the other, he swept the hair away from your neck to place a gentle kiss there. The feeling of him against you made you nearly dizzy with happiness. It seemed more forward than any of the shy hand holding and lingering glances you’d shared before, and it pleased you that he seemed to believe what you said.

The two of you found some cereal and ate in between pleasant conversation. 

“So, do you want to do something tonight?” you asked.

He blushed and stared down at his cereal.

“Like a date?” he asked.

Although you hadn’t thought of it as anything more than hanging out with him, the label sounded delightful coming from his lips.

“Yeah, if you’d like,” you smiled.

“I would,” he said. “I know a place. We’ll need to get a little dressed up though, is that okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, imagining all the ways to make him drool with your dress options.

Finishing up your breakfast, you went back to your apartment to do a few chores and go out for a few errands. When you got home after finishing up what you needed to do for the day, it was nearly time for your first official date with Spencer. You wondered if you should start referring to him as your boyfriend now that you had this official date, but you weren’t sure.

Fishing through your closet you found a simple black dress with a deep v-neck, and paired it with some heels. You did slightly fancier makeup than usual, paying attention to the wings of your eyeliner and the line of your lipstick. When you were satisfied that you looked drop-dead gorgeous, you sat at your kitchen table and waited for Spencer to pick you up.

You found yourself a little nervous at the thought of going on an actual date. While you had hung out with him casually before this, somehow going out to a fancy place for dinner made it seem like there was more pressure. What if you ran out of things to talk about? What if he suddenly realized that you were leagues behind his genius IQ, and he didn’t want you anymore? Before your anxiety could wrap itself around you too tightly, there was a knock at the door. Your attention snapped to it, and you got up, making yourself walk instead of run to the door.

When you opened it, a large bouquet of flowers was the first thing you saw. Spencer lowered the flowers and popped his head over them with a goofy grin which soon changed to slack-jawed wonder when he took in your appearance. You caught the flowers as he dropped them and chuckled while he stammered.

“S-sorry, I just… You look… Wow,” he smiled. 

He didn’t look so bad himself. He wore a long sleeved dress shirt, silk vest, and a tie. You were surprised to see he had ditched his Converse for actual dress shoes as well.

“Wow yourself,” you said, turning to take the flowers inside. 

Finding a vase, you filled it up and deposited the colorful array.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want roses. Garcia said I should go with these because they’re vibrant like your personality,” he relayed.

Touched that he had asked his friend for her opinion just for a small gift like this, you felt your cheeks warm.

“Well, tell her they are beautiful, and I love them,” you said. Then, walking over to him, you added, “Thank you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss. You pulled away, leaving him wanting much more, and it took a few moments for him to open his eyes again.

“Should we go?” he asked.

You nodded. You took a cab to a very nice French place nearby, and walked in. The walls were a beautiful, rich, red, and all the tables had candles on them. Stringed lights lit up the rest of the place as they hung from the ceiling. You could smell the bread, and your mouth started to water. All the patrons of the establishment were dressed up and smiling, clearly enjoying their meals and their company.

“Right this this way,” the hostess said once Spencer had given her his name for the reservation.

You followed her through the restaurant until you reached a table for two by a window. Outside the streetlights glowed, and people walked by. It looked like a scene from a painting with all the glowing lights and happy strangers.

“Here you are,” the hostess smiled as she sat you. She handed you two menus and recited a long wine list. You went with the house red wine while Spencer requested water. She was back a few moments later with the drinks. Once she left, you settled into your chair and looked at Spencer.

He seemed to be nearly glowing. His smile was spread across his face, and he simply looked at you with the most adoring eyes you’d ever seen.

“What?” you laughed at his open excitement.

“Nothing,” he kept grinning. “Just… I’ve never known what it’s like to walk into a place with the most beautiful girl in the world on my arm. Forgive me if I feel a small amount of pride watching the gaping faces of those who would have easily bullied me in high school.”

You giggled and looked around. Sure enough, a few men turned to act as if they weren’t staring at you when you looked at them. You also saw many of their stunning dates. You shook your head.

“I’m hardly the most beautiful girl here,” you noticed. “But thank you nonetheless.”

Spencer pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

You looked around for a moment, not wanting to get into this, but at the same time, feeling too embarrassed by his overstatement.

“Look at her,” you pointed subtly to a woman nearby. “She could easily be a model.”

Spencer looked quickly to her, and then back at you. 

“But she’s not  _ you _ ,” he said simply.

The way he said it, as if that should be the most obvious explanation as to why you beat out all these other women was so endearing, you felt your cheeks flush.

“Oh jeez,” you sighed. “What did I do to deserve this? I’m feeling awfully spoiled this evening already.” 

“Good,” he grinned.

You both turned your attention to the menu, and a few moments later, your server arrived.

“Bonjour,” he greeted in his French accent. “How are the two you this evening?” 

“Great,” you answered for both of you.

“Good, good. And what can I get for you?” he asked. You motioned for Spencer to order first while you made up your mind. He ordered quickly and handed the waiter his menu.

“And for your girlfriend?” he asked.

Your attention snapped to Spencer to see what his reaction would be to this label. He had done the same for you, and the waiter shifted nervously.

“Sorry, did I misread the--”

“No,” you interrupted the waiter.

Spencer smiled.

“Oh, well, you are a lucky man, sir,” he said respectfully. 

“I know,” Spencer agreed.

You placed your order and the waiter took your menu. You took a sip of your wine and sighed happily.

“I hope that was okay,” you said, referencing the label the waiter had assumed. “I mean I thought we kind of…”

“Yeah,” Spencer laughed. “I… I’m happy with it if you are.”

“I am,” you said.

There was a childish sort of embarrassment there, while the two of you adjusted to your new status. While there had always been that closeness and intimacy between you two, putting a label on it somehow made it more real.

A different waiter came back with a basket of bread, and Spencer grinned.

“Ah, thank you, my girlfriend loves bread,” he said.

You chuckled as the man nodded and set the bread down on the table.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just never really got to say anything like that before.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend?” you asked.

He sipped his water nervously.

“Not technically, no,” he answered vaguely. When you raised your eyebrows at this response he added, “There’s been some interaction with females, but none you could qualify as ‘girlfriend’ or ‘successful.’”

You let out a short laugh.

“What would you qualify them as?” you asked.

He considered this for a moment.

“It’s difficult to say,” he said. “What would you call someone who you’ve kissed once and then they meet Morgan and choose him?”

He seemed to be jesting, but you were sure that he actually was a little pained by this, and who wouldn’t be? It must be difficult to stand next to someone like Morgan and get passed over many times. 

“I would call them an idiot,” you said.

He laughed.

“Honestly,” you assured him. “Morgan is very nice, and he has that underwear model look going for him, but anyone who chooses him over you… I just don’t understand, personally,” you said honestly.

“Really?” he asked. “So no underwear model type for you?”

You shrugged.

“I can’t help it if I like a man who uses books for knowledge rather than to level his coffee table,” you grinned.

He shook his head and laughed.

Your food arrived, then, and the waiter came back after he set down your food to refill your wine glass. You were starting to feel delightfully buzzed, and the two of you set in on your dinners. Everything tasted devine, and as the evening went on, all the fears you’d had about conversation and inadequacy faded away.

You found yourself laughing and talking animatedly about a whole range of subjects. Occasionally you would draw attention from the other tables by the amount of laughter that came from the two of you. You finished up with a shared chocolate cake for dessert, and Spencer swiped up the check to pay before you could even offer.

You didn’t want to leave the restaurant and its beautiful setting, but it was getting late, and the check was paid. You walked outside into the summer night air and sighed happily.

“Want to walk for a bit?” you suggested. He nodded and you slipped your hand into his, starting to walk in the general direction of your apartment. It was nearly ten, and the streets were still filled with people bar hopping and walking around. You glanced occasionally at Spencer when he wasn’t paying attention and saw a satisfied, happy smile resting comfortably on his features. You wondered if he knew he was smiling. You wondered how much you had to do with putting it there.

You passed a young man on a stoop playing his guitar and singing. You stopped to listen for a little while, and Spencer released your hand to get a few dollars from his wallet to tip the man. While you were standing by yourself, a man walked up next to you and whistled at you. You turned to see him and watched his eyes scroll down your body.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing all alone?” he asked, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Spencer’s arm slid around your waist, seemingly out of nowhere, and he held you close to him.

“She’s not,” he answered for you. The man looked at Spencer and laughed. 

“You’re with this joker?” he asked you incredulously.

“That’s actually Special Agent,” Spencer said, digging his badge out of his vest pocket and flashing it. The man’s face went slack with surprise. He glanced at you one more time before walking away.

You turned to Spencer with a surprised grin.

“That’s Special Agent,” you mimicked him. “That was pretty hot,” you teased.

“Yeah?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. You nodded.

You pulled him by his vest towards you and kissed him. Before you could get too wrapped up in the kiss, you pulled away, nearly panting.

“Let’s take this back to your place, yeah?” you asked.

He looked at you with a pleasantly surprised face and nodded. Hailing a cab, you got in with him and gave him the address. It didn’t take long to get home, especially while you were distracted by kissing Spencer’s neck and gently nipping at his ears. You enjoyed watching his cheeks redden and his eyes widen as you slipped your hand onto his thigh.

Before you could really embarrass him, you were home, and you walked upstairs with him hand in hand. Still feeling a little buzzed, you were more flirtatious than usual, biting at his lip as you kissed him and nearly pushing him into his apartment. While he didn’t seem to mind these advances, he still seemed a little nervous. 

You led him to the bedroom and kicked off your heels. You laid down on his bed, sighing with the comfort that came from the comfortable surface and your feet’s freedom. He stood at the edge of the bed, watching you. He was biting his lip and seemed to be analyzing something.

“What’s wrong?” you asked lazily.

“Absolutely nothing,” he said, as if it surprised him. 

“Then come here,” you smiled. 

He loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes, sitting down on the bed with his feet hanging off the side. You came up behind him and hugged him, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his neck. He unbuttoned his vest and dropped it on the floor. You loosened your arms as he turned to you, folding his legs as did so. You were going to kiss him again, but the way he looked at you made you stop for a moment.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling like he wanted to say something.

“You’re just… so beautiful,” he shook his head. “And not just tonight… Every time I see you… I’m just blown away by you.”

“Same,” you said honestly. You nestled up close to him drew your finger along his jawline. “Every time I see you I get this feeling in my stomach. You know that fluttery, anxious, excited feeling?”

“I know the one,” he chuckled. You nodded.   
“Every time,” you said. 

He sighed and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. He leaned in and kissed you with incredible gentleness. It seemed he wanted nothing more than to feel your skin on his, and you found yourself feeling the same way. 

You pushed him slightly backward so he laid down, and you hovered over him. You kissed him gently while you unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his smooth chest beneath. He leaned up slightly to rid himself of the shirt and never broke your kiss. He laid back down and you traced your hands down to the line of his pants. You smiled into the kiss as you fumbled with his belt, finally getting it open and unzipping his pants. You tugged lightly and his hips rose up automatically to assist you in ridding himself of the unwanted fabric.

Gently, you glided your hands down his body, feeling him tense a little bit. When you came to his manhood you felt him tense again, and broke the kiss.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He laughed nervously.

“Yeah,” he said.

“You can tell me if you’re not,” you promised. “You spoiled me tonight, and now I want to spoil you, okay?” you asked.

He nodded as he licked his lips, not trusting his voice. You could feel him growing hard in your hands, and moved your body down, kissing along his stomach as you went. When you took him in your mouth, he groaned, and you smiled inwardly at your ability to make him feel good.

His hands gripped the sheets as you began to pump slowly, your head bobbing as you tried to take all of him in. He was panting as you continued speeding up your pace, running your tongue along the edge and flicking it at the tip when you got there. 

“F-fuck,” he gasped as you increased your pace even more. You marveled at this uncharacteristically vulgar word and felt even more spurred on. 

Soon enough he was bucking his hips beneath as he neared his climax. With a moan, he found his release. You took everything and swallowed, slipping him out of your mouth gently, and smiling at the writhing mess beneath you. When he could open his eyes, he blinked dreamily at you, and you leaned down to kiss him. He responded with languid kisses and you chuckled at his near euphoric state.

“Fuck,” he repeated in a whisper.

“Dr. Reid, such vulgar language,” you teased, rolling on your side next to him.

He turned onto his side to look at you.

“I am feeling sufficiently spoiled,” he smiled. 

“Good,” you grinned.

You kissed him again, expecting to find his lips as soft and gentle as they were a moment ago. Instead, you felt an eagerness as his tongue slipped into your mouth, and his hand rested on your hip. He nipped at your lower lip as his hand slid down past the hem of your dress, pushing it up as he found the hem of your panties and tugged down. You helped him slide them off, his lips never leaving yours as his hand then traveled up your thigh.

You gasped into the kiss as his fingers found your clit and he began to gently rub tiny circles. For his alleged lack of experience, he was profoundly adept at navigating the female anatomy. Feeling the tension starting to build, you kissed him eagerly, urging him onward. He slipped two fingers inside you while keeping his thumb on your clit and you moaned into his mouth. Grabbing onto his hair, you tugged a little as he started pumping in and out of you, curling his fingers to just the right angle so you had to break the kiss to moan his name. Catching your lips again his, you fought to keep your breathing steady as he quickened his pace, keeping the circling of your clit almost perfectly consistent. Soon you were falling over the edge, muttering incoherent words mixed with his name between kisses. 

He smiled into the kiss as you came down from your high and opened your eyes, pulling away from him to look at the pleased expression on his face. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” you asked when you had your breath back. He slowly licked his fingers and it almost made you cum again right there. 

“I read,” he smiled. “A lot.”

“Fuck,” you echoed his sentiment from before. You kissed him again, this time tasting yourself on his lips.

Drowsy and happy, you rolled over, realizing you were still in your dress. Slipping out of it, and ridding yourself of your bra, you matched Spencer’s nakedness. He watched as these new expanses of skin became free, and marveled at your beauty. Laying back down, you faced him on your side. He leaned in to gently kiss your neck while he traced the line of your body from your shoulder down to your upper thigh. Sighing happily, you shifted closer to him, feeling your breasts press against his body lightly.

You thought you might happily live in this moment forever, lazily tracing patterns on his skin in between kisses.

“Do I really get you all to myself?” he asked quietly, tracing a line from your cheeks to your lips. You nodded.

“If you’d like,” you said. 

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” he answered.

It was fairly dark in the room, but some light from the moon and street filtered in, illuminating his face just enough for you to see the sense of wonder there. 

“My genius,” you marveled. “My Spencer.”

He sighed when you said his name, as if you’d he were a lost man in the desert who’d found water.

He turned to lay on his back, opening his arm up for you to go and lay your head on his chest. Nestling your naked body against his, you sighed, utterly content.

Wrapping the sheets around the two of you, you fell asleep quickly, dreaming peacefully all through the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Although it wasn’t to a fancy French restaurant every night, you and Spencer went out together almost every night for a week. Spending time with him either in one of your apartments or out on the town was so much fun. You began to forget the reason you’d gotten so close in the first place. He hadn’t had a nightmare, and his micro flashbacks were nearly extinct. Only occasionally did he reach for your hand with that familiar paleness, but each episode was significantly shorter and less devastating than the last.

You were snuggling on your couch watching TV when the phone rang one afternoon. It was Morgan, and Spencer answered.

“You’re on speaker with me and (Y/N),” Spencer informed him as a greeting.

“Oh,” Morgan’s voice was high pitched and a bit surprised. “Hello there,” he greeted you.

“Hi,” you replied.

“What are you two up to?” he asked.

“Just hanging. You back from the case?” he asked.

Spencer had mentioned the team had been across the country on a nasty case.

“Yeah, just got in last night. Hey, listen, what do you think about a bowling night? You, (Y/N), the team, some rented smelly shoes, and tweleve pins each?” he asked.

Spencer looked at you for approval, and you nodded.

“We’re in,” he said.

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up around eight?.”

“Sounds good,” Spencer said.

“Alright, see you then,” Morgan said. 

The three of you said your goodbyes and Spencer hung up.

“Sounds like fun,” you commented.

“You know, bowling is the one sport I’m good at,” Spencer said.

You laughed.

“Is it really a sport?” you asked.

“Just let me have this,” he whispered.

“Sorry, you’re right. You are good at a sport.”

He smiled as you laughed again.

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, you and Spencer waited outside for Morgan to pick you up.

Morgan pulled up and Garcia waved from the passenger’s seat as you got in the back. 

“Hi!” she greeted you excitedly.

“Hi!” you matched her enthusiasm.

“Good to see you again,” Morgan smiled. 

“Yeah, you too,” you said, buckling up.

The four of you drove to the bowling alley and parked. Getting out, you saw two men standing with Prentiss and JJ. One looked as though he had never smiled in his life, and seemed to stand with almost military posture. The other was more relaxed, talking easily with Prentiss as you walked up to them. 

“(Y/N), this is Aaron Hotchner,” Morgan gestured to the serious-looking man.

“You can call me Hotch,” he said, and you saw that while his features seemed stern, his eyes were soft and warm.

“Hotch,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

“And this is David Rossi,” he said, gesturing to the Italian man.

“The author?” you asked, recognizing the name from the amount of times you’d seen it in a bookstore.

“You’ve read my books?” he asked.

“No,” you admitted sheepishly. “But I see them everywhere. I guess I’ll have to pick one up!”

“I’ll send one or two over,” he smiled.

“Thanks!” you replied. 

“I thought kids your age hated dusty old books,” he jested. While you were definitely not a kid, the affection in his voice was very friendly. 

“I’m secretly a grandma,” you admitted, at which he laughed.

“That’s not a bad thing,” he smiled.   
“Hey,” Prentiss smiled at you once you’d let go of Rossi’s hand. She stepped in for a hug, and you felt quite welcomed by this group of lovely people.

“Good to see you again,” JJ hugged you as well. 

The team patted Spencer’s back and hugged him as they greeted him. He was definitely the youngest of the group, and they seemed to almost act as his guardians or older siblings. You felt incredibly grateful that he would have such wonderful people to return to once he came back from leave.

Heading into the bowling alley, you each got your shoes. The group walked to your assigned lane and entered in their names. You went first, managing to get a spare, and winning the applause of the team. Spencer went next with a strike, and you gaped at him as he sat down after his turn.

Morgan was next, and somehow missed every pin but one. Spencer, who was sitting next to you on the bench leaned over.

“He could probably bench press a man, but he can’t throw a ball into some pins.”

You chuckled and turned to him, loving the look of pure amusement in his eyes. You kissed him quickly, because the swelling of joy at his contentment was too much not to do so.

Suddenly feeling eyes on you, you turned and saw the team was smiling at the two of you.

Rossi pointed a finger and moved it side to side, pointing at both of you.

“So what’s this then?” he asked. 

You were unsure how much the rest of the team had told him about your relationship. None of them knew that you were now officially together, though they might have guessed.

You blushed from the attention and felt Spencer slide his hand into yours. Garcia squealed and Prentiss laughed happily.

“Yay!” Garcia bounced up and down.

“When did this happen?” Hotch smiled slightly, a sense of relief on his face.

You looked at Spencer.

“Officially? A week or so ago?” you guessed. 

“Nine days, six hours and,” he glanced at his watch, “Forty-seven minutes.”

Morgan laughed and shook his head. You were impressed with his accuracy.

“Well, congratulations,” JJ smiled. 

You thanked them and the game resumed, now with a few more glances from the team members at the two of you than before. When you finished your turn, Morgan caught you before you sat down.

“Hey, wanna grab some drinks with me?” he asked. “Beers for everyone, water for Pretty Boy?” he guessed. The team murmured their agreement.

“Spence, bowl for me if my turn comes up before we’re back,” he said.

“Okay,” Spencer said with a mischievous grin.

“And don’t gutter-ball it,” he warned.

“I would never,” Spencer said with mock outrage. 

Morgan waved a finger at him and laughed as he placed a hand on your back to lead you to the food and drink section. Dropping his hand once you started to walk with him, he smiled easily and stepped up to the counter, ordering the drinks and a few appetizers. 

Waiting for the food and drinks, he leaned against the counter and looked at you. You could tell he wanted to say something, but he remained quiet.

“Is this the part where you warn me not to hurt your friend?” you asked, sheepishly looking down at your shoes.

“No,” he answered easily. You looked up at him. “This is the part where I thank you for giving me my friend back.”

You cocked your head to the side, and he smiled slightly.

“Ever since he was taken on that case, he’s been off. And I’m not talk the usual PTSD, reconsider-your-job off. Something in him changed, or broke, and somehow you’ve managed to put him back together.”

You remembered him saying something similar at the bar when you had danced, but then he had said Spencer was  _ closer _ to being himself. Now it seemed the transition was nearly, if not totally complete.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you said, wondering how much of this was really your doing.

“I do,” he said, seriously. “And while I’m not going to say I’m not worried what would happen if something went wrong between the two of you, I will say that I think he might be strong enough to handle it if it did. And I wouldn’t have said that a few weeks ago.”

You nodded.

“Sometimes it feels like a lot of pressure,” you found yourself admitting. “I would never do anything to hurt him of course, but what if I’m not enough one day. What if one day he starts having nightmares again, and having flashbacks again, and I can’t keep them away?”

You felt a growing knot in your stomach. You didn’t know Morgan that well, but you felt all your anxieties bubbling up and you didn’t know who else to vent them to. He nodded.

“If that day comes, I will be here to help,” he promised, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “But I see the way he looks at you, especially when you’re not looking,” he smiled slightly. “And if you ever stop being more than enough for him, I think hell will have frozen over.”

You swallowed the remaining anxiety and felt the knot in your stomach loosen. Taking a deep breath, you nodded.

“Thanks,” you said. “That’s actually really reassuring.”

The man behind the counter came back with two trays of your beers and snacks. 

“I got it,” you said before Morgan could take out his wallet. 

“Thanks,” he said, pleasantly surprised. You paid and took one tray as Morgan took the other.

You laid the snack tray down at the table near the bench, and Morgan handed everyone their beverage.

“Oh, you’re my favorite,” Rossi said, seeing the nachos you’d just put down.

You giggled and took a cheesy chip after he did. Morgan looked up at his score and then turned to Spencer with fire in his eyes.

“What is this?” he asked, pointing to the zero next to his name on the last turn.

“I tried my best,” Spencer couldn’t stop his smile. 

“Oh no you didn’t,” Morgan pretended to be angry. 

“I did, scout’s honor,” Spencer laughed. 

“One day,” Morgan wagged a finger at him. “One day, I’ll get my revenge.”

The team laughed, and you went up for your turn. After a reasonable number of pins down, you sat next to Hotch as Spencer got up for his turn.

“He seems a lot better,” Hotch observed quietly to you.

“Yeah, I think he’s finally healing,” you agreed. 

“Did he talk to you about everything?” he asked. You nodded, and noticed that while the softness was still in his eyes, Hotch was looking quite concerned. “Good,” was all he said.

Spencer was chatting with Morgan while JJ took her turn. You watched him with Hotch for a moment.

“I’m going to recommend him for a guest lecture position,” Hotch said, still only to you. “He’s done it before, and I think it’d be a good way to get him back into the game.”

You nodded, wondering if Spencer would enjoy that.

“It would only be a few days a week, but getting back into that subject might cause more flashbacks and nightmares,” he said. 

“Do you think he should do it, then?” you asked.

“I think he should try,” Hotch answered honestly. “If he wants to come back to the team, it’s a good way to test out if he’s getting there or not.”

You nodded, wondering if he ever really should go back to the team after all he’d been through.

“I’ll be there for him no matter what,” you said.

Hotch nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he didn’t come back to the team,” Hotch said, watching Morgan and Spencer pretend to exchange punches while laughing.

You couldn’t help but silently agree. Still, you knew how much Spencer wanted to save lives.

“Relationships don’t fare too well with this job,” Hotch said. “I speak from personal experience.”

You could hear the pain in his voice and you looked at him closely. You wondered who he had to go through all the terrible things he saw with.

“I can’t ask him to give up the job for me,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“You might not have to,” he said.

Spencer walked over then, before you could ask Hotch what he meant by that, and sat down next to you. Hotch got up for his turn, and Spencer took your hand in his.

“What were you two talking about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you smiled, and kissed him.

You heard Garcia give a small “aww,” at the two of you, and turned to smile at her.

“You guys are so cute,” she smiled.

“Where’s Kevin?” Spencer asked. 

“Oh he’s visiting his parents in Maryland,” she said. 

“Kevin?” you asked.

“He’s the Hardy to my Laurel,” she said wistfully. 

“We’ll have to double date when he gets back,” Spencer suggested.

Garcia looked surprised, but elated, and nodded enthusiastically.

“What’s all this dating talk?” Morgan asked, taking a seat on the other side of you.

“We’re going to double date with Garcia and Kevin,” you explained.

“Wow, are you sure you can handle that much nerd power at one time?” he asked you with a smile.

“Could Luke Skywalker blow up the Death Star?” you asked.

Morgan laughed and shook his head.

“Nevermind, I stand corrected,” he said, holding his hands up in defeat. 

Spencer kissed your cheek affectionately.

The game wrapped up, and you came in fourth behind Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss. The team wanted to go out to get some drinks, but you and Spencer decided to call it a night as it was getting late.

Saying goodnight to the team, you called a cab to take you home. All the way home you couldn’t stop thinking about how thankful you were not only for having met Spencer, but for having met his team of truly amazing people.

Once you got home, you could feel the sleepiness in your limbs. You didn’t bother going to your apartment. You’d moved the essentials over to Spencer’s place when you started sleeping there regularly. You walked inside and drove yourself to the bedroom while Spencer took a shower. Collapsing on the bed, you were almost asleep when you heard the bathroom door open. Spencer walked out and quickly donned boxers, giving you only a peek at his beautiful form.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked, quietly slipping into bed next to you. 

You still hadn’t changed. For some reason you just felt wiped all of the sudden and didn’t want to move.

“I should work out more,” you observed. “Apparently bowling is too much exercise.”

Spencer chuckled. You sat up with a small effort to look at him. “But I love the team. Honestly, I had a great time.”

He looked down at the bed and smiled. As if you would have had any other opinion, you thought. It shouldn’t have been surprising that you enjoyed their company.

“Morgan likes you,” Spencer said. “He warned me he would do terrible things to me if I messed this up,” he laughed quietly.

He seemed to ruminate on this for a moment, perhaps thinking of the ways he might indeed mess it up. His smile faltered.

“You’re not going to mess it up,” you assured him, laying down and beckoning him to join you. He laid down on his side to look at you. His hair was damp and fell in his face. You pushed it away and ran your finger down over his lip. “We’re good together.”

He nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

“I just… Nothing in my life has ever seemed so easy, and I’m afraid it’s too good to be true,” he said barely above a whisper.

You knew the feeling.

“Well, maybe it’s time we both deserve something good without any consequence,” you said.

He nodded, wanting to believe you. You kissed him gently. Sleep was weighing heavy on your eyes and you blinked them open with extreme effort when you heard Spencer speak.

“What was that?” you asked, trying to stay awake.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “Go to sleep.”

You needed no more instruction and rolled over so he could spoon you. The feeling of his lips on your neck was the last thing you remembered before drifting to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Usually, Monday nights were ones you spent alone until Spencer came home. You’d never asked where he went on these nights, but he was always back around ten to get ready for bed and for you to join him. You weren’t his warden, you didn’t need to know everywhere he went. He deserved privacy after all, but you did wonder where he went for those few hours every week.

This week, he sat nervously as you ate dinner together. He was bouncing his leg and biting his nails, and you finally huffed and gave up trying to ignore his anxiety.

“What is it?” you asked.

“What’s what?” he feigned ignorance.

“Why do you look like you just killed someone, stuffed them under the floorboards, and are now hearing their heartbeat?”

He chuckled at the reference and took a deep breath.

“I was trying to build up the nerve to ask you something,” he said. 

“Ask away,” you said, intrigued.

“You know I’m usually gone Monday nights,” he started. You nodded. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me… To AA,” he said.

It clicked then, and you wondered why you hadn’t thought of it before. Of course he would need a group like that. Suddenly, the weight you felt of being his only real support was lifted slightly.

“You want me to go?” you confirmed, sure it was a pretty intimate gathering.

“If you want to,” he said, sounding less confident about his invitation.

“Of course I’d want to go,” you said. “Anything to support you.”

He smiled softly and swirled his fork in his pasta.

“It would mean a lot to have you there,” he said. Then, more quietly, “I never thought I’d be able to bring anyone with me.”

You understood what this meant to him. He bared his soul to these strangers, told them things he probably never told anyone else. He trusted them, and this was a big part of him now. He wanted to share that with you. Moved by the invitation, you reached for his hand.

“I would love to go with you,” you confirmed. He smiled softly.

You wrapped up dinner, and got ready to go. He took your hand as you left your apartment building, and led you along the street to the nearby church. The church was rather small, and very old. The bricks looked to be at least 100 years old, and were reddish brown topped with a beautiful stone cross and angels.

He walked confidently into the church, leading you into the small room off of the main chapel. There were tables lining the room with different foods and drinks, a podium, and a few rows of chairs. A few participants were walking around the room, mingling. Three people sat by themselves in the rows of chairs.

As you walked in, you saw a man at the far end of the room turn, notice Spencer, notice you, and make his way for you. He was an African American man dressed in a red and white dress shirt and khakis. He smiled and clapped his hands together once as he approached you. He was beaming at you now.

“Is this her?” he asked Spencer.

“Yes, um, Reverend, this is (Y/N), (Y/N), this is Reverend Green,” Spencer hastily introduced you. You could sense he was nervous, but the Reverend seemed very much at ease, enthusiastic even.

“Hi,” you smiled at the kind-looking man. 

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” he said. While he wore a broad grin, you could see he meant this sincerely, and on a much deeper level than pure pleasantry.

He grasped your hand in his as he shook it, and just looked at you, as if you were some kind of fairytale creature come to life.

“It’s good to be here,” you agreed.

“Well, take your seats, we’re just about to get started,” he said.

Letting go of his hand, you nodded and followed Spencer to a row of seats in the middle. Other patrons filed in from outside, while more from the sides of the room took their seats. There were all kinds of people here. Some were very young, high school age you guessed, some were middle aged, some Spencer’s age, some almost elderly.

The Reverend got up and introduced himself, saying a short, thoughtful prayer before giving the podium over for the participants. 

The first woman introduced herself and gave a little bit of her story. Sitting there, you felt a little dishonest. You didn’t have an addiction, and here you were, privy to the information reserved for fellow strugglers. Still, as the people introduced themselves and gave their story, sometimes crying, you found you were just as much a part of this group as anyone. You clapped at the stories of triumph and cried at the stories of defeat. You felt their pain and came to understand some of their struggles.

Spencer got up, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before making his way to the podium. He looked less nervous up there in front of this crowd than you’d anticipated. 

“Hello,” he smiled and gave a little wave. “My name is Spencer, and I’m an addict.”

The crowd resounded with their greeting.

“I’ve been sober seven months now,” he said, half to himself, and half to the crowd. The were some hoots of approval and some light clapping. “Some of you might have heard me talk about (Y/N) before,” he said. As he said your name, some heads turned your way, others murmured their recognition at your name. “I brought her here tonight because I wanted you all to meet the main reason for my sobriety. Every time things get tough, or I get… Your terminology calls it a ‘craving,’ I think of her, and it goes away.” You felt your cheeks flush. He looked down at the podium and smiled. “And I wanted you guys to know that it does get better. If you can find that one reason to stay sober… I think you can do it. I didn’t think I could,” he laughed with some bitterness. “But then I met her,” he said, finally looking up at you. “And now… I think I might be able to do anything. Sometimes, the way she makes me feel makes me remember what it was like to be a kid. Everything’s so fun with her. I almost want to go and build a blanket fort again,” he laughed at this. “And I will be in her debt forever for saving me from myself.”

You heard the clapping around you and joined in, half mesmerized by his wonderful words. He returned to you and kissed your lips lightly. You held his hand and felt immense pride swelling in your chest, ready to burst open your rib cage. You listened to the last few participants, but focused on your hand in his, and the pride you still felt coursing through your veins.

When the last person had gone, the Reverend came and gave a final prayer, after which he dismissed everyone. You got up and mingled with the other people. Spencer introduced you to some of the regulars who had heard your name consistently over the past month or so. They all remarked on how drastically Spencer had changed since then, and you couldn’t believe it was entirely your doing, despite their claims. Still, you were glad that Spencer had these people around him. You could be there for him, but you didn’t understand the true struggle of addiction. These people did, and they cared about him.

You made the rounds with the regulars, and finally met up with Revered Green again to say your goodbyes.

“Please, come back again,” the Reverend welcomed you. “It was great to meet you.”

“You too,” you promised. 

You were smiling as you left, happy that not only had Spencer chosen to share this intimate part of himself with you, but also that everyone there had spoken so highly of him and his progress since you’d known each other. Although you had plenty of faith in your relationship already, the support of these people solidified it even more.

“What’d you think?” Spencer said, breaking up your thoughts of the evening.

“I thought it was… very special,” you said. “Very moving.” You were unsure how much of his particular speech you should mention without embarrassing him or crossing any lines. “Do I really make you feel like a kid again?” you asked.

He chuckled.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I’ve worked a serious job for so long, I forgot what it’s like to really have fun.”

“Did you used to build blanket forts a lot?” you asked, remembering his speech.

“My mother had a lot of sheets and blankets,” he answered. While there was fondness in his voice, there was also something else, something sad.

As you walked, you looked up at the sky, seeing the hoard of dark clouds gathering quickly above you. The air was charged, and you could tell it was going to rain soon.

“Do you want to build one tonight?” you asked, surprising yourself with the proposition.

He looked at you, surprised, but smiled warmly.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Let’s do it.”

Smiling, you walked into his place and put down your stuff. You helped him find all the sheets and blankets from various cabinets, drawers, and the like. Deciding on the living room for your fort, you set to work creating a canopy from the fan hanging from the ceiling. You then used some chairs and cushions to create a wide and tall room, covered in fluffy pillows. You ran back to your apartment to get some of your stringed lights and once those were added, you had an almost fantasy-like fort.

Standing back to admire your work, you heard the thunder roar outside as rain began pelting the windows. The window creaked as the wind hit, and you walked to the window for a moment to watch the dark clouds swirling in the sky. Spencer came up behind you and wrapped himself around you, resting his chin on your head, watching the sky with you.

You both stood in silence for a few moments just watching the magnificence of the storm. Turning around to see him, you looked up at his tranquil features.

“Fort time?” you suggested. He nodded. 

Kneeling down and entering through your makeshift door, you reveled in the wonder of your construction. The light blue canopy sheet hung softly from the ceiling, falling pleasantly around you on all sides by extended sheets. The lightning from the window illuminated the room in short bursts, the few lamps you’d left on around the room, and your stringed lights did the rest. Spencer crawled in after you, easily sitting up in the fort. Although you couldn’t stand without ducking, there was at least a foot above Spencer’s head. You smiled at the work you’d done.

“So, did we do a good job?” you asked, wondering if it lived up to his childhood memories.

He looked up and around the fort, and then landed his gaze on you.

“Yes,” he said confidently.

You looked at how the light hit his features. The warm lamp light fell softly around his cheeks and neck. It lit up his eyes, and you noticed that he no longer had any dark rings under them. He bit his lip as you unconsciously stared at him, for some reason mesmerized by his beauty in this moment. 

“Um, do I have something on my face?” he asked shyly.

You shook your head and laughed.

“Sorry,” you said, pushing your hair behind your ear and laughing nervously. “I just… You look so beautiful right now,” you admitted. You heard his light chuckle.

“I think typically the term for men is ‘handsome,’” he said, still blushing from the compliment. You shook your head.   
“Doesn’t do it justice,” you said. 

While you wouldn’t normally be so forward, in this moment you felt for whatever reason that it was absolutely vital that he know how truly beautiful he was. Yes, his eyes were mesmerizing, yes, his jawline was stunning, but he was also beautiful in a deeper way. He was beautiful in that he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you - to share a childhood joy, to tell you about his addiction and the weakest parts of him. Those were the things that made him absolutely perfect.

And in that moment, you knew you had to kiss him. And so you did. As the wind whipped around outside, violently slamming rain against the window, your lips laid gently on his. While thunder tore through the air, your hands found purchase on the soft skin of his jaw. 

He was hesitant at first, as he always was when one of you initiated physical intimacy, but he soon opened up to you, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth and taste him. There was something different about this kiss, something urgent, yet incredibly patient. He pushed lightly against you, guiding you carefully onto the pillows to lay on your back. He held his hand at your neck to gently lay you against the many cushions you’d spread around the ground. Lightning flashed against the walls of the fort, and you smiled into the kiss as you helped him shrug off his shirt. Running your hands along the exposed skin, you felt his muscles tense in the effort to hover just above you. 

Wriggling a little on the floor, you freed yourself of your shirt and bra, carelessly flinging them away. As he always did upon seeing your body, Spencer’s eyes went wide and he bit his lip, his breath hitching. You arched up to grab his lips with yours as his shaking hand made its way to your breast, gently massaging and teasing your nipple. He released your lips to kiss along your jawline and along your neck. You giggled with pleasure at the sensation, and you could feel him smiling as he proceeded down towards your breast that was not occupied by his hand.

He slowly kissed your breast, sucking lightly on your nipple until it hardened. He then trailed his hands and lips down your stomach and stopped at your shorts. Glancing up for your consent, you nodded slightly as he slipped your pants and underwear down and away. Once more he looked up and gave a small smile before delving into your folds. Despite his lack of experience, he was not inadequate. As you’d learned in your previous encounters, Spencer knew just how to drive you mad. You imagined he monitored your pulse and breathing to sense when you were close, because he always left you hanging just a few moments before finishing you off. 

This time was no different. However, when he waited those few seconds, you wrapped your hand in his hair and tilted his head up before he could finish. 

He looked at you quizzically, almost worriedly, like he thought he’d done something wrong. His face was flushed and his pupils wide. He tilted his head to the side, his hair falling in its movement.

You bit your lip, unsure how to ask for what you wanted. The two of you had fooled around, but you hadn’t actually had sex yet. You sat up a little and pulled gently on his hair, guiding him to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, and when you pulled away, you saw he was watching you carefully.

“I want you,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“I want you too,” he smiled, not understanding what you meant.

“No, Spencer, I  _ want _ you,” you repeated, trying not to giggle. “If you want…” you added shyly.

It took him a few moment to compute the gentle innuendo. When he did, his eyes went a little wider and he nearly gasped. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed he believed you would always be at this stage of your intimacy and never move forward. It warmed you to know that he would have waited indefinitely.

“O-oh,” he stuttered. 

Chuckling softly, you kissed him again, this time bringing your hands to help him rid himself of his pants. The rain was still pounding against the window, lightning occasionally lighting up the room. Spencer was naked now, and you could see he was hard just from pleasuring you. He was shaking more now, he trembled as he rested his hand on your hip. You found yourself slightly trembling as well as your hand found grip on his hair. 

You opened your legs and he lay between them. 

“C-Condom?” he asked.

“The pill,” you answered.

“Statistically the pill only has a 96% efficiency rate, however the--”

“Spencer,” you laughed. “It’s fine.” He watched you for a moment to make sure.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

You kissed him and nodded. He slowly slipped into you and your head tilted back with a low moan. He echoed your noises as he sunk into you. You felt the pressure of him as your body adjusted. He looked down at you with almost pure ecstasy on his features.

“Okay?” he managed to ask. You nodded, not trusting your voice.

He kissed you as he slowly edged out of you. Once he was nearly all the way out, he moved back in, a little faster than his first entrance. He started with a slow pace. Kissing him while he slowly pumped in and out of you, you felt that familiar knot in your stomach start to build to something. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he increased his pace. Your tongues danced as his fingers found your clit. Gently rubbing circles while he continued to thrust into you faster and faster, you could tell you weren’t going to last long.

Your breath was fast and mingled with his in between kisses. He continued to pump in and out of you, his pace growing faster and faster, more and more urgent. You clung to him, your legs wrapped tightly around him, your hands firmly against him. You moaned his name against his lips and felt him spill inside of you. You slipped over the edge as his fingers continued to rub you, his hips still pumping, although his pace had slowed again. 

You found your hand had clamped onto his hair so tightly, your knuckles were white. You released him as you came down from your high and saw that he was watching you. As he slipped out of you, he lay beside you, still staring. You rolled over to kiss him gently, your whole body feeling numb and alive all at once. 

“Are you okay?” he asked sweetly, his lips pressed together and his doe-eyes attentive. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he blushed.

“Was that your first time?” you asked tentatively.

He looked down at the cushions beneath you. You tilted his head back up with a finger under his chin.

“Was it obvious?” he asked shyly.

“No,” you answered honestly.

He seemed pleased with this answer and smiled. 

“I, uh, I rather enjoyed that,” Spencer said with a slight laugh. 

He said it as though it surprised him, as if he wasn’t sure sex would be something he enjoyed. He had seemed to enjoy the other things you’d done together, but perhaps this was different for him. It certainly felt different to you. While you had pleasured each other before, this was different. Feeling him inside you, coming undone  _ together _ , was different, more intimate.

“I rather enjoyed that too,” you couldn’t help from smiling.

You could hear the rain outside, still. It was lighter than before, but still tapping against the window. Looking up, the string of lights still illuminated the blankets that hung around you. Spencer rolled onto his back and looked up at the canopy you’d created. 

“When I was little, my mother used to help me build these things,” he said wistfully. He was staring upwards, but glanced over at you. You rolled to your side to watch him speak. “I didn’t exactly have many friends when I was younger, and my mom said that whenever any of the kids were mean to me, all I had to do was come home, make a place of my own and crawl inside it. They couldn’t hurt me in there.” His eyes were far away, and you just watched him, reveling in this openness you felt. “And no one did,” he smiled faintly. “But then my dad left, and my mom started to cry a lot more… And she didn’t have a fort to make or anywhere to hide from the people that wanted to hurt her… Mostly because they were in her head,” he said. 

“She was mentally ill?” you asked.

“Is,” he corrected. “She’s still in Vegas in a mental institution.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. He shook his head lightly.

“It was a long time ago. She’s doing better in there.”

“Still, must have been hard to watch her fight for her own mind,” you said.

He nodded. 

“But she always helped me build my forts,” he said. “Even though she couldn’t build her own.”

“Maybe that’s what love is,” you smiled softly.

He nodded. 

“I think it might be.”

He turned to you, and you wondered if you would do that for him. Would you protect him first, before protecting yourself? Your thoughts were cut off by the way he rolled onto his side to look at you.

“Thank you for this,” he said, looking all around at the fort.

You shook your head.

“Nothing to thank me for. We built this together,” you reminded him.

“I mean… for everything,” he amended.

“Statement stands,” you smiled. The corners of his lips twitched upwards and he nodded slightly.

The rain had stopped outside, and the room was silent.

“You hungry?” you asked suddenly. 

Spencer turned to you, your voice having apparently broken his chain of thought. He slowly grinned and nodded. He slipped on his boxers. You grabbed his dress shirt and buttoned it up enough for it to stay on your body. When he saw what you were doing, he swallowed and bit his lip. 

“Is this okay?” you asked, wondering if he’d prefer if you didn’t wear his clothes. “It’s just more comfortable than--”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice strained. “It’s… good,” he smiled. 

You laughed and kissed him, finishing buttoning and getting up to crawl out of the fort. Spencer followed you, and wrapped himself around you from behind as you stared at the fridge.

Opening the freezer, you saw what you wanted. You grabbed the ice cream and two spoons, and Spencer followed you back into the fort. You ate ice cream, talked, and laughed together late into the night. 

You found it incredible how you could be so many different things with Spencer. You could be his confidant, sharing secrets that no one else knew; You could be his girlfriend, sharing his friends and understanding where he came from; You could be his lover, intimately touching him the way no one else had; You could be his best friend, laughing harder than you had with anyone else.

All these things you had never had in one person before. It scared you, because it also meant you had more to lose than ever before. Still, as you watched Spencer nearly doubled over in laughter on the cushion floor of your blanket fort, it didn’t feel like you were risking anything. If anything it felt like you were cheating the universe by getting so much and giving so little.

When neither of you could keep your eyes open, and the ice cream was gone, you didn’t bother going to bed. Instead, you found an extra blanket, piled a few pillows for your heads, and went to sleep under the canopy of the fort you had built together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to an AA meeting or anything like it really, so sorry if that's not quite the atmosphere, I just tried my best!


	10. Chapter 10

Waking up and smiling at the blanket fort that still hung above you, you felt Spencer shift as he woke. Memories of the previous night’s activities waded through your mind, as Spencer blinked awake. It was late morning, and you were surprised to hear Spencer’s phone ring. He grunted and got up to go get it, kissing your forehead gently, and stooping to get out of the blanket door.

You waited, too lazy to get up. You heard Spencer pick up, and paid minimal attention to his voice as he conversed with the person on the other end for a few minutes. You were almost dozing again when he came back in.

“That was Hotch,” he said, looking far more awake now.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, he just wanted to know if I’d be up for guest lecturing a few days a week for criminal psychology students.”

You remembered Hotch mentioning this to you when you went bowling, and you wondered how much the visual aids and the topic itself would affect Spencer.

“Do you want to do it?” you asked, reserving judgement.

“It seems like a good stepping stone,” he said. “I know I’m not ready to go back to the team yet, but getting back into the mindset might be a good start.”

You bit your lip with worry and tangled your hands together.

“You think it’s a bad idea?” he guessed.

“I think you should do what you want,” you said. “But I also don’t want to see you get worse again. But if it’s worth it to you to try, then I think you should do it.”

He considered this for a moment, his eyes far away, calculating something.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” he said. “Especially if you audit one of my classes,” he smiled shyly.

“Oh, Professor Reid,” you teased. “I could get into that.”

While you were making light of the subject, you were still worried about his reactions to the material. He might pride himself on being logical, but there were reactions he couldn’t stop his subconscious from showing.

“I would start this week,” he said. “Three days, two hours each.”

“That’s not so bad,” you said.

“It’ll get me out of the house anyway,” he added. 

Maybe getting back into things was what he needed. You were starting to come around to the idea, especially if Hotch was the one to suggest it.

The two of you discussed what he would be presenting in his lectures over breakfast, and you found your morbid curiosity in serial killers rising to the surface again. He seemed surprised and impressed with your limited knowledge of serial killers and filled you in on any questions you had regarding their behavior.

In the days leading up to his first lecture, you made sure to get all your articles in on time, if not beforehand so you’d be able to attend the lecture and deal with any fallout afterwards.

You were nervous for him, of course. There was a strong possibility of him having a flashback or a panic attack during the lecture, and you were glad you would at least be there to help him and explain to the students what was going on.

You drove to the university and walked into the lecture hall about forty-five minutes early. Expecting it to be empty when you arrived, you were surprised to find it was about half full. It seemed the students were more than eager to hear from the renowned Dr. Reid, and you felt proud to hold his hand as you walked into the hall. The seats were like a small stadium, seating a little over a hundred kids, in your best estimate. The floor area had a whiteboard and a desk, along with a few markers and remotes for the projectors. Spencer laid his bag down on the desk, and you put your stuff in one of the front row of seats. You didn’t want to sit up there with him, but you needed to be close to him should he need you.

You stood with him for now as the students filed in through the half hour that followed. You talked quietly, going over the main points of his lecture and assuring him that he could do this. As the class was about to begin, you gave him a quick kiss for luck and sat down, ready to watch him lecture.

Spencer stood in front of the full classroom in his dress shirt, tie, vest, pants, and converse. His hair was messy but styled, and he wore a nervous smile on his face.

“Hello,” he greeted warmly. The students murmured a return greeting. “Welcome to the Sexual Sadists Seminar.”

The students opened their notebooks and readied themselves to take down the vital information. There was a good range of students in terms of age, race, and gender. You were proud to see a fair amount of women who might one day take a job like Spencer’s.

The more Spencer talked, the more comfortable he seemed to feel. He began walking around the room, even interacting with some of the students. He was talking about the sexual drive and deviancy of the killers first, and it was really interesting to you and the students. 

It was when he got into examples of the torture the killers inflicted on their subjects that things started to go downhill very quickly.

He had pulled up pictures of the aftermath of some killers’ work, and you heard his voice falter and his hand start to shake as he described the brutal beating of a man. He stuttered at the beginning of a sentence and stopped talking, his eyes glued to the blood on the screen and his face incredibly pale. He wavered on his feet a little, and you instantly got up, putting your hand on the small of his back and turning his face to yours with the other.

He didn’t seem to recognize you for a long time. He blinked, but you didn’t seem to register to him.

“Spencer, you’re here with me. You’re safe,” you repeated your old mantra. “Breathe,” you ordered.

Somewhere in there, he heard you and took a breath, blinking a few more times before registering your face and relaxing his arms. 

“Sorry,” he said, his eyes nearly full to the brim with tears. He blinked them away.

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly. 

The students were murmuring behind you, wondering what exactly was going on with their lecturer. You glanced at them and gave them a  _ just one minute _ gesture.

“You need to stop?” you asked. 

He took another breath and shook his head.

“No, I’m fine,” he said. 

He cleared his throat and turned around. You waited a moment before taking your seat, sitting on the edge of it to watch him as carefully as you could. You could feel the eyes of the students on you for a few moments before they were enthralled by the continuance of the lecture.

Spencer veered away from specifics of torture and talked more about how to catch this particular type of criminal. This seemed to help. He gave the students no explanation of his episode, and no one seemed to have anything but respect for him.

Spencer finished up his lecture with information about how he got into the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and other career options these students might have. There was resounding applause when he finished, much to his embarrassment, and about half of the students raised their hands when he asked if they had any questions.

The questions were harmless and insightful, and thankfully no one pressed the issue of what he went through in the middle of the lecture. 

“Is that your girlfriend?” one of the students asked, pointing to you. 

Spencer blushed. 

“I’m not sure what that has to do with--”

“My question is, how do you maintain a relationship when you’re constantly on cases all the time? If we are to join the bureau, is it a mostly solitary life?” she asked.

Spencer cleared his throat and glanced at you quickly. You nodded your approval of whatever he wanted to answer regarding you.

“I see,” he said. “Yes, this is my girlfriend. Right now I’m not on any cases that take me away, but that is definitely something a lot of profilers have to deal with. I’m not going to lie to you, there’ve been a lot of divorces. It’s hard. If you want to settle down and have a family right away, I wouldn’t suggest this career,” he answered. “Then again, if you really love someone, you can always find a way to make it work.”

You thanked him for not looking at you to see how much you were blushing at that moment. The girl seemed satisfied with that answer and sat back down, thanking him. Spencer dismissed them after that, and a few students stayed behind to talk with him for a few minutes or to thank him for the information.

You held his hand, making sure that he was still alright. Your heart hadn’t quite returned to normal from the panic you felt at watching that happen to him. You’d somehow convinced yourself that the worst of it was behind you, but you were wrong. This wasn’t something you could put a bandaid over to heal. It was already a scar, there forever.

About an hour after the lecture, you were able to make your way back to the car and back home. So many people wanted to talk with him, you finally had to just tell them to come back the day after tomorrow when he gave the lecture again.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you drove home, trying not to let your worry distract you from the road. Spencer sat quietly, saying nothing the entire ride.

When you got back to his place, he walked over to the couch and slumped down, putting his head in his hands. You walked over carefully, watching him as you sat down. You didn’t want to treat him like he was broken, but you weren’t sure how to assess how he was without being incredibly cautious.

“Want to talk about it?” you tried after a few moments.

He shook his head.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone,” he said quietly, not looking at you.

You bit back the sting of rejection and nodded. This was what he needed and you would give it to him.

“Sure,” you said quietly. “Come get me when you need me,” you added. He nodded.

You left, feeling your heart break a little. Of course you would give him his space, but you didn’t want him to push you away if he needed you. Resolving to wait a few hours and text him, you tried in vain to distract yourself. You couldn’t help but worry over what he was doing on his own. Why had he pushed you away this time, when he clutched you to him every other time?

You considered calling Morgan or Hotch, but you weren’t sure how dire the situation was yet. It wasn’t like he had Dilaudid hanging around his apartment right? And he didn’t have a history of self harm as far as you knew. And yet his episode during the lecture and subsequent quietness worried you. Not to mention asking to be alone. You’d basically been inseparable since you met.

Just as you were about to text Spencer, you heard a soft knock at your door. You flung it open to reveal a slightly disheveled Spencer. His shirt was untucked, his hair was even messier than usual, and his cheeks seemed flushed. You waited for him to speak, unsure what to say.

“Sorry about that,” he said quietly.

You hugged him tightly to you and buried your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Releasing him, he ran his hand through his hair and looked at the ground.

“I thought I could just ignore it. You know, talking about all that… stuff… in the lecture was hard, but I was doing okay until all of the sudden it just  _ hit _ . And after I heard your voice I came back to myself, and I thought I’d be okay. But I’m not. I just feel like…”

He trailed off and looked around the hallway. 

“Can I come inside?” he asked. 

“Of course,” you said, stepping back into your apartment. You brought him over to the couch.

He stared at his hands, as if he felt guilty for something. You wrapped his hands in yours.

“For the first time in a long time… I wanted to use again,” he said softly. Your heart lurched. “I was even thinking of how easy it would be to get some.”

“But you didn’t do it,” you reminded him. “You came and got me.”

He sighed and looked at you woefully.

“I almost didn’t,” he barely uttered.

You swallowed hard and looked at him. How close had he gone to sprinting past your door and down the road to some dealer? How close had you come to losing him not only to his addiction but possibly an overdose?

You cradled his face in your hands and felt the sob rising from your chest. You could tell he wanted to look away, but you held his gaze to yours.

“I am so proud of you,” you said softly. 

“This time around,” he said.

“And the next time it happens, I’ll be there,” you promised. “And I’ll be just as proud then when you make the same choice.”

“What if I don’t?” he asked, seemingly scared of the question and the answer you might give.

You watched him carefully, trying to understand everything that was going on behind those gorgeous eyes.

“Then we’ll deal with that then,” you said. “But no matter what, I’ll be there for you.”

He nodded, but did not seem convinced. You didn’t know what else you could do to make him believe these words. In the end, you settled for kissing him gently and laying back against the couch. Eventually, he seemed to relax, and even laced his fingers with yours.

“Should we call Hotch and cancel the rest of the lectures?” you asked.

He studied your entwined hands and frowned.

“If I do that, I am letting him win,” he said. 

You assumed the “him” referred to the man who had tortured him.

“But it would save you some strife,” you pointed out.

He shook his head.

“If I’m going to get over this, there’s no avoiding it. ‘The best way out is always through,’” he quoted.

You sighed, partly glad at his determination, but also scared as to what trouble it might bring.

“Okay,” you said. “We let’s go through.”

Feeling emotionally drained, the two of you took a bath. You filled your tub with warm, soapy water, lit some candles, and called for him. You undressed each other slowly. It wasn’t so much sexual as it was comforting. To feel his skin against your skin as you laid against him in the tub, to feel his lips on your neck, your hands in his, was similar to the feeling you got watching an old favorite film after a long time. 

“I love this,” he said quietly.

You had closed your eyes, resigning to listening to the water sloshing and the bubbles crackling. His voice was low and relaxed.

“Me too,” you said, your eyes still closed.

“Sometimes I think I’m too in my head, that there’s nothing keeping me tethered here… And then I feel this,” he said, tracing his finger along your arm. “And I’m suddenly grounded.”

“Happy to help,” you said sleepily. “Feel free to touch me like that all the time,” you added with a smile. He chuckled as he continued to stroke patterns into your skin.

His hand drew around to your cheek and he gently tilted your head towards him. You opened your eyes to see him staring down at you with pure adoration. He leaned down and kissed you gently, your wet lips coming together to mold perfectly with his. It was a moment like you’d never shared before. Somehow, without words, you saw and felt just how connected and devoted you were to each other. You stayed together in the water until it began to cool. You kissed, you looked at him, and you were content.

You ate a simple dinner and headed over to his apartment to go to sleep. You realized you hadn’t slept in your apartment for over a month now. It was sort of just a place to hold your stuff while you were at Spencer’s.

Reflecting on this, you wondered if it was too soon to move in together. You essentially did already live together, it would just be a matter of moving your physical stuff over. These were the thoughts you sifted through as you fell asleep. 

While Spencer’s sleep was not quite as peaceful as it had been, he didn’t scream. He kicked and whimpered a little here and there, but your touch soothed him and he calmed back down.

The following day was one of Spencer’s days off. You worked and he read and did some chores around his apartment. 

By the following day, you had sufficiently worked your stomach into knots worrying about what this lecture would do to Spencer. He would be teaching the same material to a different class, and you worried that he would have the same reaction he did the first time. 

You watched as he expertly gave the first half of his lecture, charming the students just as he had the first day. When the details of torturing came up, he faltered, and you almost ran up to him, but you waited. He evened his breathing out on his own, glanced at you a few times, and continued. 

You wondered how badly it had affected him this time. Although he recovered faster, you wondered if he would even tell you if he had had thoughts of using again.

At home, he admitted that it had been a small flashback that had caused his momentary lapse, but he had seen it through and used what he’d learned the last time going through it, to make it pass sooner. You knew that other people would have a much harder time doing this, and it would take them a lot longer, but you had no doubt that Spencer’s mind could speed up that process somehow.

By the third lecture of the week, he didn’t falter at all. If he was having some internal struggle at any point, he didn’t show it. Afterwards he admitted that it still shook him to talk about those things, but he had managed to get through it with relative ease.

You were worrying less and less about him as the weeks went on. He lectured on other subjects and seemed to be really enjoying both the lecturing, and the interaction with the students. A part of you wondered if he should just resign to teaching and give up the BAU all together. You knew he wanted to save lives in the way he had been, but couldn’t he teach new recruits to do that? You knew it was selfish, and that the main reason you didn’t want him rejoining the bureau was because you didn’t want him away for weeks at a time.

You went with him consistently to his AA meetings, holding his hand when he needed it and being immensely proud when he got his eight months chip.Things seemed to be getting back on track, and looking back, you realized a little slip up, if you could even call it that, was probably the best case scenario.

You and Spencer had settled back into your usual routine. You would work when you needed to, and go with him to his lectures and AA meetings. Things were going pretty well. You still made each other laugh, and you were learning more and more about each other’s bodies every night.

One night, you had the team over for dinner. Everyone was able to make it, and you and Spencer spent the whole day cooking for them. They were more than impressed when you presented your five course meal, and extended the dining table to accommodate everyone.

Once you had all started eating, conversation flowed as easily as the wine.

“So, how’s the lecturing going?” Hotch asked. His tone was light enough, but everyone knew what he was really asking. 

Spencer shifted in his seat and looked to you as if looking to a classmate for an answer to a test question. You nodded your support that he tell the truth.

“It was rocky at first,” he admitted, smiling awkwardly. “But I’ve been a lot better. I like teaching.”

“Professor Reid,” Prentiss said. “I don’t know if that’s cooler or nerdier than Doctor.”

“Definitely nerdier,” Morgan decided. “Boy Genius can now indoctrinate his braniac knowledge on unsuspecting victims.”   
“You make it seem like that’s a bad thing,” Spencer laughed.

“I just think you should balance out the nerd with the cool,” he said, gesturing to himself.

“What, you’re going to come teach them something cool after I teach them something nerdy?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Maybe,” Morgan teased.

“I bet you could teach a lot of things, Chocolate Thunder,” Garcia winked across the table.

“Yeah, Morgan shouldn’t be teaching. Think of all the crushes they’d have on him,” JJ remarked. Morgan looked rather pleased with himself.

“I think Spence would have some too,” Prentiss countered.

“Well, he has one,” you piped in. The team chuckled and you winked at Spencer. He blushed.

“You go to all the lectures?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah,” you said, not knowing if you should elaborate on why.

Hotch studied you silently for a moment and nodded slightly, as if you had just explained everything and he approved. 

“You couldn’t pay me to go back to school,” Morgan smiled. 

“I think he’s an excellent professor,” you praised.

“Well, if he’s teaching from my books, you can’t really go wrong,” Rossi chimed in.

“True,” Prentiss agreed. 

“Oh that’s right! I’ve been meaning to tell you that I read one of your books,” you said.

“And?” he asked.

“Really fascinating,” you responded. “I was really interested in the obsessive crimes.”

“Really interested in the obsessive crimes,” Morgan repeated, shaking his head. “Where did you find this girl?” he asked Spencer. You blushed. 

“Across the hall,” he answered with a smirk.

“Well, wherever she’s from, I would like to keep her forever,” Garcia smiled at you.

“Cheers to that,” Prentiss echoed. You smiled and your cheeks flushed. 

After dinner, JJ, Prentiss, and Garcia ended up chatting with Spencer on the couch while Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch offered to help you clear the dinner plates and ready the dessert. Spencer was far enough away not to hear your conversation with them.

“So how is he doing, really?” Rossi asked quietly.

You rinsed off a dish and put it in the dishwasher.

“As well as could be expected, I think,” you said.

“Has he been having nightmares again?” Hotch asked. You shifted. How much should you tell them?

“If he does, they don’t wake me up much,” you answered. 

Morgan smiled softly at this, and you could tell he was proud of his friend for being in this relationship.

“What about his eating habits, his reading habits?” Rossi asked.

“Normal,” you answered.

You felt a pull in your gut. Should you tell them he had admitted to being tempted to use again? That was over a month ago now, though. Was it relevant? Still, it seemed too personal to betray. He trusted you and he didn’t seem to be in danger anymore, so there really didn’t seem to be a reason.

“You know you can call us, right? If you need help, or advice?” Morgan asked.

You finished loading the dishwasher and looked into his kind eyes.

“Thank you,” you said to all of them.

They nodded, and proceeded to help you with the dessert.

“We want to help him, we want to protect him, but right now, you’re in the best position to do that,” Hotch said.

“I know,” you answered, feeling that familiar weight on your shoulders.

“And we want to thank you for doing such a great job,” Rossi added with a kind smile.

“It’s mostly him,” you admitted. “I’m just kind of here.”

Morgan shook his head. 

“That’s more than he’s ever let anyone do for him,” he reminded you. 

You glanced over at Spencer who had somehow been convinced to let Garcia attempt to braid his hair. 

“We’re thinking of recommending he rejoin the team in another month,” Hotch informed you.

Your stomach dropped and you felt cold all of the sudden. Why did the idea of Spencer rejoining the team make you so worried? He was doing much better and had expressed interest in going back to his old job. Was it just that you didn’t want anything to change? Or were you justified in thinking that the job that almost broke him completely did not deserve him back?

“You don’t think he’ll be ready?” Rossi read your mind.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

They seemed to accept and consider this answer, and after a few moments, Morgan announced that the cake Garcia had brought was now cut up and ready to be enjoyed.

You finished up the night with the delicious cake and light banter until the team decided they’d better call it a night. 

As you fell asleep in Spencer’s arms that night, you wondered how long you’d be able to stay in them. How soon would he be gone on cases for weeks at a time? How soon would he be put in extreme danger and possibly not come home?


	11. Chapter 11

Another month ended Spencer’s lecture run. He, the team, and a third party psychologist had determined he was ready to return to duty. Of course you were excited for him, this was what he wanted after all. This was what you’d been helping him get better for. Still, as you watched him give his last lecture you felt a mix of dread and nostalgia. Everything would change now. Who would keep his nightmares away while he was on a case? Who would he turn to when you weren’t there for him?

You watched him wrap up his last lecture on lust murderers, and the students filed out after their usual milling about and asking questions. 

You left to go to the bathroom before the ride home. When you came back, you were near the entrance closest to speaker’s platform. You were about to gather your things and head over to get Spencer and leave, but you stalled when you saw one last student approach him.

Something inside you prickled, and you knew there was something strange about this boy. He looked for all the world like a normal, high school aged kid. He had short curly hair, pale skin, and a petite frame. He almost reminded you of what Spencer might have looked like a decade ago. Or he would have, had you not immediately sensed something dark about him.

You didn’t move closer, but you watched them. You strained by the door, hidden, to listen Spencer, and the boy’s high pitched voice.

“You look a little young to be in a college lecture,” Spencer noted.

“I’m a junior in high school,” he admitted.

“Well, it’s always good to check out what college courses are like,” Spencer praised him.

“So you said a lot of 'em kill prostitutes?” the boy asked, a tad over eagerly.

You’d seen a lot of students ask questions similar to this, but none with such… investment. Spencer seemed to be on alert as well, and his gaze flickered to you with a look of concern. 

“It's the number one serial killer target, actually,” he responded carefully.

The boy shifted his bag on his shoulder and looked at his feet.

“Well, is that for sex or because they think they're dirty and they need to be punished?” he asked.

You felt your heart start hammering. Something wasn’t right here. You saw Spencer tense as he realized it too.

“What did you say your name was?” Spencer asked.

“What would it mean if somebody were stabbing them and cutting off their hair?” he asked, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips. He was clearly nervous, but too interested to bolt as he so obviously wanted to.

“I've never, um, I've never heard of a case like that,” Spencer kept his voice even. 

You didn’t know if you should go to him and try to help him with this situation, or if your interference would be worse. He had seen you, so surely if he thought you would help he would have called to you. 

“Do you wanna go to the BAU with me, maybe talk to some of my other team members?” he asked cautiously. The boy edged backwards, away from him. He started walking towards the stairs that led up and out of the auditorium.

“I actually have to go to school,” he said, stepping onto the first stair.

“Okay, but here, take my card,” Spencer offered. The boy took the card and stashed it away in his pocket.

“Thanks for talking with me,” the boy said before sprinting up and away. 

Spencer’s gaze flicked to yours before he bolted after the boy. You followed as closely behind as you could, stopping only when you saw Spencer with his hands running through his hair looking utterly lost in the empty lobby of the building.

You stopped, a little out of breath, and looked at him questioningly.

“What was that?” you panted.

“I, I don’t know,” he admitted, moving his hands from his head to wrap his arms around you. “I have to go to the team, I think… I think D. C. May have a serial killer. I think I just let him get away.”

“Shit,” you breathed. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, no, you go back to the apartment, I don’t want you wrapped up in this,” he said.

“No way,” you argued. “I was there too, I might be able to help you. I might have seen something you didn’t.”

Spencer looked at you carefully, calculating something. He seemed reluctant to accept that you were right, but he also knew the stakes. He nodded, and quickly grabbed your hand as the two of you ran to your car. You drove quickly to the FBI headquarters, parked, and nearly sprinted with Spencer into the building.

You rode with him up the elevator and onto a floor with a long hallway and glass doors. Walking through the doors, you saw various people in cubicles, getting coffee, and filing papers. 

“Hotch!” Spencer yelled at the farthest office on the upper level. 

You saw most heads in the office turn to you, and Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi appeared as Hotch made his way out of his office. 

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked, his brows furrowed, and posture stiff.

“I need Garcia now,” he said. 

Hotch cast a look at the team members around the office and nodded.

“Everyone in the boardroom. JJ get Garcia on the line.”

“Got it,” JJ said, snapping to action.

Spencer sighed and led you into the room up a small flight of stairs in the back of the unit. The room was mainly comprised of a long oval table with eight chairs around it. At the end of the room was a large monitor. JJ had been the first to arrive and already had Garcia on the screen. She was typing something as JJ expressed her lack of knowledge about whatever this situation was.

“Spencer,” JJ said, as the other team members filed in behind you. “What’s going on?”

Morgan came up behind you and laid a hand on your shoulder. He looked at you, glad to see you, but concerned.

“Everything okay with you?” he asked you.

“Yeah,” you promised. “We just… we met an interesting student today.

Spencer’s hand left your as he walked to the front of the room towards the TV. 

“Garcia, I need you to help me find a kid. He was local, high school aged, curly brown hair, brown eyes,” Spencer closed his eyes trying to remember details.   
“I’m gonna need more than that, sugarplum,” Garcia warned. She looked up from her keyboard and finally saw you. “Hey, what’s (Y/N) doing here?” she asked.

“Try looking at The Morton School,” you offered. The team looked at you, confused. “He had a tag on his backpack, like the kind they give out at book fairs or whatever,” you explained.

You saw Hotch smile slightly and Garcia put in the information. 

“Okay, got the boys from that school, but it’s a lot of names,” Garcia said.

“He said he was a junior,” Spencer recalled. You shook your head.

“He’s probably a sophomore,” you said. 

“Right, kids always lie about their age,” Garcia agree. “Okay, freshman class yearbook photos from last year would be sophomores this year,” she said, pulling up at least forty pictures of young boys. She scrolled and you and Spencer both jumped and almost yelled when you saw him.

“That’s him!” you both said simultaneously.

“Nathan Harris,” Garcia informed you. “Sending you his address now. He lives with his mom not far from here.”

“Reid, you really think this kid’s a danger?” Morgan asked, stopping Spencer before he could sprint out of the room.

“Yes,” he said. 

Normally, you would have assumed they would have needed more confirmation, but the team seemed ready to back Spencer immediately. 

“Okay, Reid and Morgan, you two head to the house, let us know what you find.”

“I’ll stay with (Y/N),” Prentiss offered. 

Hotch nodded and left with JJ and Rossi, leaving the two of you alone with Garcia still up on the screen. You sighed, feeling the falloff of adrenaline, and sank into one of the black chairs.

Prentiss sat down next to you and looked at you sympathetically.

“A bit fast paced, huh?” she asked. You laughed a little and nodded.

“He just slipped right back into the job,” you noticed. He had been on top of this from the moment he sensed something was off. He was focused, passionate. Part of you was really proud of him. Part of you worried immensely.

“It’s kind of like riding a really horrible, sad, bike,” she said with half a smile. You nodded.

“I hope we’re wrong,” you said, thinking of the youth and all the life he had yet to live.

“The fact that both of you sensed something isn’t a great sign,” she admitted. “I’ve learned to trust intuition a lot in this job. If you both think something’s up, you’re probably right.”

You frowned and looked down at the table, glancing up at the screen after a moment. 

“What do you think, Garcia?” you asked. 

“I think that I’ve been looking at pictures of puppies for the past few minutes in case you’re right and I have to look at horrible things soon,” she said. “Want to join me?”

You couldn’t help but smile. You glanced at Prentiss who nodded, and told Garcia you’d be right there. Prentiss led you down a few hallways and into a small office space. Inside, Garcia sat at a desk with a mass of computer monitors and keyboards around her. True to her word, most of the screens were filled with pictures of puppies. She motioned to the two empty chairs nearby and you and Prentiss took them.

“So this is the tech cave?” you asked, glancing at the knicknacks spread around Garcia’s desk.

“This is Wonderland itself,” she smiled, gesturing to the small room around you.

“Very impressive,” you smiled.

“Not so bad yourself, little miss observant,” Garcia poked you with a pen.

“Oh, the tag thing? It’s just something that stuck. I felt weird so I kinda remembered everything just in case, kind of automatically,” you shrugged.

“That might have saved some lives,” Prentiss said.

“Well, if Boy Wonder’s on it, I’m sure he’ll make sure lives are saved,” Garcia assured you.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Spencer was on a case. It was happening already and you hadn’t prepared. He was supposed to go back in a few days anyway, but for some reason this all happening so fast made it worse and more scary. You wrung your hands together as you felt the girls’ eyes on you.

“You’re worried about him,” Prentiss said. It wasn’t a question.

You flicked your gaze to her, and then back to your hands, worried she’d see the fear in your face.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you said robotically.

“He will be,” Prentiss laid a hand on top of yours. 

Garcia’s phone rang and she clicked a button.

“You’re on speaker with Prentiss and (Y/N), my savory sunshine,” she greeted.

“We found him,” Spencer said. “We’re bringing him in for an assessment.”

“Okay, we’ll see you here,” Prentiss said. Spencer hung up.

“They must have found some bad mojo over there,” Garcia commented. Prentiss nodded.

The three of you went back to the main office and waited for Morgan, Spencer, and Nathan to come. Hotch must have received a call as well, for the rest of the team was waiting by their desks watching the door when you arrived.

Hotch walked over to you as he leaned against one of the desks. You watched through the glass doors at the elevators for Spencer’s return. He’d only been gone about a half hour, but it felt like forever. Was this what it would feel like when he was on a case? You felt like you couldn’t breathe right, that your heart was folding in on itself.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Morgan and Spencer exited the elevator escorting the boy you’d seen, and an older woman, presumably his mother, behind him.

The team stood at attention, and Hotch met the four at the door. 

“Nathan, thank you for coming in,” he said. “Right this way, we have Agent Rossi waiting to speak with you.”

The boy nodded and flashed a glance at you. He didn’t recognize you, as he hadn’t seen you, and he looked away just as quickly as he’d registered you. Spencer and Morgan stayed as Hotch led the boy to Rossi. His mother attempted to follow, but Hotch gently told her to stay. JJ walked quickly up to her and escorted her to the break area to offer her coffee. 

Once Nathan was in Rossi’s office, Spencer’s eyes snapped to you and he walked speedily over to you, wrapping you in his arms and tucking your head under his chin. He held you as if he’d almost lost you, and you breathed him in as if you hadn’t seen him in years. When you separated, you heard Hotch call Spencer’s name and motion for him to join him in the boardroom. Regretfully, Spencer left your arms to join his boss.

You watched him go and Hotch closed the door. You sank against the nearby desk and sighed.

“Hey,” Morgan said, nudging you gently. 

“Hey,” you responded automatically, not tearing your eyes from the boardroom door.

“Hey,” he repeated. You turned to him. His warm eyes showed concern. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you replied robotically. He gave you a look, and you sighed.

“Worried,” you admitted.    
Prentiss leaned against the desk beside you.

“That’s normal,” she said. 

“He might have just saved a lot of women, and helped a boy,” Morgan said. “Thanks to you.”

You shook your head.

“It’s all just so fast,” you explained. Morgan nodded. 

“I know,” he said. “You’re never ready to let go of those you love, even if it’s just a little.”

You swallowed.  _ Those you loved. _ More and more you were starting to associate that little word with your raggedy genius.

“Just… Do I have to let him go into something so dangerous?” you nearly whined.

Morgan nodded and wrapped an arm around you shoulder.

“I know,” he sympathized. “But your man’s a superstar profiler. He’s good at his job. Not only the tracking down the killers bit, but also the staying alive bit,” he assured you.

You nodded, trying your best to feel comforted by this.

After a few minutes, Spencer and Hotch emerged from the boardroom and joined you back on the main level. Morgan removed his arm as Spencer walked over to you. His hand slipped into yours and you felt comfort wash over you. Feeling his flesh against yours meant he was safe.

“Now what?” you asked him quietly. Morgan and Prentiss were talking to Hotch out of earshot.

“Now, we wait and see what Rossi says,” Spencer answered with a fleeting glance at the office they now occupied. 

You leaned your forehead against his chest and sighed. Lifting it, and looking up at him, you tried to see how he was handling this sudden turn of events.

“How are you doing?” you asked, finding you couldn’t read his features.

“I’m okay,” he said with a tight smile. 

You hadn’t expected him to spill his guts in the middle of the office, but you had expected a bit more than this answer, one that was just as vague as his expression.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” you reminded him barely above a whisper.

He opened his mouth to say something, but just then, the door to Rossi’s office opened and Nathan stepped out, looking just as scared as he had when he entered. Rossi motion to JJ to bring his mother over, and you watched as the blonde woman ascended the stairs and followed Rossi into his office. Their conversation was significantly shorter. Nathan’s mother left the office and nearly ran to her son, gathering him up and shielding him with her arm as she quickly exited the office and walked into an open elevator. Nathan gave a pathetic wave to Spencer before the doors closed, and you saw Spencer return it, his lips in a tight line.

Rossi walked down the stairs and joined the waiting team, his expression grim.

“What’s your analysis, Dave?” Hotch asked. Rossi sighed.

“It’s not a question of if he kills, it’s when,” he answered. Your stomach lurched.

“And his mother is just bringing him home?” Spencer voiced what you were thinking.

Rossi shrugged helplessly.

“He’s not eighteen, she decides if he goes into a mental care facility or not. I tried my best to convince her, but she just kept telling me what a ‘good boy’ he was.” 

Rossi shook his head. You didn’t know what to say. You’d always heard of this team being the heroes and saving the day, but now they were helpless.

“So what do we do?” Morgan asked. 

“Nothing,” Hotch said evenly. “Until there’s been a crime committed, he’s a free man.”

“He’s just a boy,” Morgan argued. “And he’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Hotch nodded with a grim glance at Rossi. “But it’s out of our hands, and we have actual cases to get to.”

Morgan sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The rest of the team stood around looking equally dejected.

“He came to me for help,” Spencer said quietly, drawing the attention of the team. “He doesn’t want to be the person that he’s scared of.”

“That might not be enough to stop his impulses,” Rossi pointed out.

Spencer nodded, looking at the ground.   
“We did the best we could for now,” you reminded him. 

“She’s right,” Hotch said. “And for now there’s nothing else we can do.”

This seemed to be a dismissal, and the team dispersed to their desks and offices, except for you, Spencer, and Hotch. Hotch laid a hand lightly on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Go home, discuss what we talked about, and let me know what you think,” Hotch said.

Spencer nodded, and Hotch said his goodbyes, heading up the stairs to his office. You stood alone with Spencer for a moment while he seemed to consider something. 

“Should we go?” you asked after he was silent for a while.

He looked up like he’d forgotten you were there. He nodded and slipped his hand into yours, his shoulders visibly relaxing when your hand was secure in his. You walked to the elevator and started the journey home. Once you were there, you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat on Spencer’s couch, waiting for him to start talking. He paced the room for a few moments muttering to himself before he finally sat down and looked at you.

“Hotch said the college offered me a full time teaching position,” he said softly, gauging your reaction closely. “He also said that they would love to have me back on the team as soon as I’m ready.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide your emotions. Your gut feeling was that he should not return to the team, but you could already tell which way he was leaning.

“What do you want to do?” you asked anyway.

To your surprise, Spencer hesitated. He shifted closer to you and took your hands in his.

“I want to make you happy,” his voice cracked. He looked at you like he was searching for something. 

Your heart felt like it’d been struck by lightning. 

“The key to that is making yourself happy,” you informed him honestly. 

“You don’t want me to go back to the team,” he noted.

“I never said that,” you defended yourself.

He gave a little laugh and shook his head.

“Not with words, no,” he said. “But every time it comes up, you fold your arms, your eyebrows do that creasing thing, like that,” he pointed at your forehead and you tried to relax your features. “And your voice raises just a bit in pitch because of the stress.”

You huffed and looked at the ceiling. 

“Not fair,” you muttered.

“Not untrue,” he countered. 

You lowered your gaze to him, and saw he was waiting for you to say something.

“Can you blame me?” you asked. He shook his head.

“I suppose not,” he admitted. 

You caressed his cheek and drew him closer to you, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

“You won’t,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” you challenged him. He sighed. 

“If I don’t go back… How many will die because I wasn’t there?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” you felt your voice crack as a sob escaped your throat. You felt the floodgates open as you began to shake, the tears flowing even as you tried to stop them. All the anxiety of the day on top of worrying about him returning to work had finally wore you down.

He held you as you cried, and you were soon able to even your breathing enough to pull away to look at him.

“I didn’t mean that,” you admitted. 

“I know,” he assured you. 

“But why does it have to be you?” you asked.

He shook his head. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I chose this path, and now I know where I’m needed,” he explained.

“ _ I _ need you,” you said, looking down at your hands in embarrassment. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“I believe it is  _ I _ who needs  _ you _ ,” he said.

You thought of how he could prove that he was right. He needed you to keep the nightmares away, to keep him steady when he waivered. He needed you to keep him tethered to the world. And yet you found that you needed him just as much. You needed him to hold you, to make you laugh, to do magic tricks and build blanket forts with you. When he had become such a necessity, you weren’t sure.

“The aching in my chest when you’re away would prove otherwise,” you said.

He cocked his head to the side and looked at you as if for the first time.

“What?” you asked.

“Your chest aches when you’re away from me?” he asked, as if he had misheard. Suddenly you felt your cheeks redden. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you barely whispered.

“Mine hurts when you leave too,” Spencer smiled like a child.

It wasn’t as if your attachments to each other were new, but for some reason, this felt like admitting something deeper than you had before.

“Many scientists believe that heartache is caused by the anterior cingulate cortex responding to stress by increasing the activity of the vagus nerve,” he informed you. You laughed.

“Is that so?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Maybe my heart just misses your heart, and is trying to get to it by bursting out of my chest,” you offered your sappy version of science. He chuckled.

“Maybe,” he offered.

The silence that followed was surreally loud. Everything unsaid seemed to pour out of the the two of you as you just stared at each other.

“You should go back to the team… If you want to,” you felt yourself say. It was hard to say it, to tell him to leave you and possibly get hurt again, but you knew he’d regret it if he didn’t go back.

“I won’t if you ask me not to,” he said. You swallowed. He would give up everything he wanted just for you. You only needed to say the word. Sighing, you shook your head.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He waited a moment, watching to make sure you wouldn’t suddenly change your mind, and kissed you. The kiss was more passionate than you’d ever felt from him. He pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his hands around your waist. You straddled him, surprised by this new energy and enthusiasm. His lips, usually tentative and soft, were hungry and persistent. He placed one hand on the back of your thigh and the other on the small of your back. 

He broke the kiss, panting, to say, “Hold on.”

Before you could ask what that meant, or even process it, you felt him move. He was standing up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he did so, and he supported you as you giggled. He smiled up at you as you kissed him again, trying to remember the exact way his lips melded with yours. He carried you over to the bed and gently laid you down. He undressed you slowly, methodically, treating your body as though it were a religious temple. You felt your whole body relax when he undressed and pressed his skin against yours. In these moments you felt closest to him.

When he was inside you, you could feel the adoration in every inch of him. The way he held you, touched you, breathed your name, all of it told you just how much he worshiped you. And you tried your best to tell him by the way you threaded your fingers through his hair, the way you clutched yourself closer to him, the way you moaned his name, that he was the only one you ever thought about. 

When you lay together afterwards, still and quiet in each other’s arms, you looked at him closely. He was smiling, though you were sure he wasn’t aware of it. He was happy to be going back despite the horrors that no doubt awaited him. He was happy because he was going to be saving lives. He was happy because you wanted him to be happy.

Still, you couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling in your gut that something bad was going to happen. What would happen if he got hurt, or worse? You couldn’t imagine this apartment being empty, of Spencer suddenly being snatched out of your life. 

“What are you thinking about with such a serious face?” he asked quietly, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. 

You sighed, not wanting to ruin the afterglow with any apprehensive thoughts.

“Nothing important,” you lied.

“Everything you think is important,” he smiled. You rolled your eyes.

You bit your lip and tried to phrase what you were thinking lightly.

“Just… I don’t want to lose you,” you said, failing at levity. “I mean… You’re job is incredibly dangerous and I--”

“You don’t need to worry,” he promised you. He seemed so sure, and you wanted more than anything to believe him.

“Says the man who has been kidnapped and tortured,” you pointed out.

“And learned from said experience,” he countered.

“Doesn’t mean someone can’t shoot you. Experience isn’t a bulletproof vest.”

“No, but a bulletproof vest is,” he smirked. 

“You know what I mean,” you said. 

“Do you trust the team?” he asked. You considered this for a moment and nodded.

“I don’t trust the psychopaths though,” you decided.

“Fair enough,” he said.

“I mean, what if I lose you? Where am I going to find a guy who would ask me to dance in his apartment?” you remembered fondly. “Where am I going to find a guy who does magic tricks while he makes me breakfast? It’s an impossible task,” you tried to sound teasing, like you weren’t terrified of losing him.

He looked at you for a moment, almost like he was taking down a mental note, and then smiled.

“Look at me,” he said, shifting to square his shoulders to you. You couldn’t help but graze your eyes down his body, noting how soft his skin looked, how vulnerable it now seemed to be. You trained your eyes on him after a moment. “I will not leave you,” he promised, his voice thick with reassurance. “Nothing could possibly take me away, not now.”

You nodded and kissed him lightly. Willing yourself to believe his hopeful words, you sighed. Like a sort of religious prayer, you had to believe, because if you didn’t, what else was there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just watched the episode this and the next chapter are based on and forgot how much I loved it. RIP Anton Yelchin <3


	12. Chapter 12

In the middle of the night, Spencer’s phone rang. You’d been asleep for a while, and blinked sleepily as he shifted to grab his phone from the night stand. You glanced at the clock, noting that it was about two in the morning. Who would be calling at this hour? 

You became alert once you heard Spencer’s voice responding to whomever was on the line. He sat up straight in bed, listened for a moment, and then jumped out of it, his voice frantic, and hands shaking. You clicked on the light on the bedside table and watched him.

“Where?” he commanded of the mystery caller. “Alright, keep him calm. I can be there in ten minutes.”

He hung up and shoved his phone in his pockets. You got out and started getting dressed too, seeing as apparently something urgent was taking place.

“What’s going on?” you asked, sliding into a pair of jeans.

“Nathan,” he said. “He’s holding a knife to his wrists.”

“And he called you?” you asked, remembering Spencer gave him his card.

“No, the prostitute he almost killed called me,” he said, searching for his wallet.

“Where are we going?” you asked, finding your purse and pulling out your keys.

He stopped his frantic movements and stood still, looking at you with surprise.

“ _ We _ are not going anywhere,” he said sternly. “ _ I _ am going to try to convince this young boy not to kill himself or anyone else. You are going to stay here where you’re safe.”

You laughed. 

“Good try. I’m driving. What’s the address?”

For a moment, it looked like he might fight you. However, he looked at your determined features, relaxed his shoulders, and nodded. 

“A motel not far from here,” he said, grabbing your hand to pull you along. “You drive. I’ll call the police and the team.”

You nodded, not stopping to think about the danger you were putting yourself in by coming with him. He hadn’t had time to argue with you, seeing that two other lives were at stake, and now you were possibly risking your life. 

You sprinted to your car and got in, speeding off into the night as the nearly deserted roads stretched out before you. Spencer’s voice was surprisingly calm as he informed the police of the happenings in the motel. You would no doubt reach the site before them, and Spencer had brought his gun just in case. He called Hotch after, and told them what was going on. You wondered if anyone from the team or the police would get there when you did, or if the two of you would have to go this alone.

You sped through red lights when there was no chance of hurting anyone, and tried your best to follow Spencer’s directions and last minute rerouting. After what seemed like hours but was only about ten minutes, you arrived at the hotel.

Jumping out of the car, you followed Spencer to fifth door. It was slightly ajar, and Spencer drew his gun slowly, keeping one arm out to keep you behind him.

This was dumb. This was so dumb. Going into a situation you had nearly no details about, with no back up and no real plan. You realized you were counting entirely on Spencer, and while you came along initially to protect him, you had no idea how you would do that now.

Spencer drew his gun, and pushed the door open slowly. The scene before you made you gasp. A disheveled woman in a tight jean skirt and a bra stood in the corner of the room closest to the door. She was pressed up against it, watching the boy standing next to the bed. 

Nathan’s face was flushed. His long sleeved shirt was bunched up on his left arm to reveal his pale flesh, the veins nearly humming with life beneath the blade he held only an inch above them. When he heard the door open, his head snapped up, and the hand holding the knife relaxed a little. 

“Dr. Reid,” Nathan said, half relieved, half disappointed.

Spencer glanced at the woman in the corner. He nodded his head towards the door.

“Go,” he instructed her. She didn’t need to be told twice. You made sure she got out of the door and safely into the open before returning your attention to Nathan.

Spencer lowered his gun and took a step towards Nathan. 

“You had her call me,” he said calmly. Nathan nodded.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Nathan said. The pain in his voice pulled at your heart. “But I can’t control it.”

“I know,” Spencer said. “I know. It feels like there’s someone else inside you, telling you things you know you shouldn’t do, and it won’t go away.”

Nathan nodded, his knife resuming its spot dangerously close to his wrist. Spencer tensed at the movement.

“But it doesn’t have to be this way, and you know it,” he said. 

You realized you had reached for his hand and were now squeezing it tightly. You knew you weren’t in danger. You knew the only person in this room in any real danger of dying was Nathan, and it nearly killed you.

“You called me,” he repeated. “Why did you do that?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Nathan said. “I didn’t,” he added. “I… I got her here… And I almost… but I didn’t. And I was going to just put your card down and  _ do it, _ ” he said, ghosting his knife along the line he would have cut. Your stomach lurched. “But then I hesitated, and she called you.”

“And you still didn’t do it,” Spencer pointed out. “Because you don’t want to die.”

Nathan shook his head, tears spilling out of his eyes. 

“And you don’t want to hurt anyone,” Spencer reiterated. Again Nathan shook his head. “Just put down the knife, and we can talk about it,” he said, taking a step forward. You let go of his hand so he could move. 

Nathan stiffened and the knife made a small, shallow, cut on his wrist. He inhaled sharply at the pain and pulled the knife back. Looking back up at Spencer, he looked incredibly scared.

“You can’t help me,” he said. 

“Yes I can,” Spencer promised. “Me, and my team, and a whole group of professional people who know exactly what you’re feeling and how to stop it, can help you.”

“You can’t,” he sobbed. His face was now completely red, and the tears fell easily from his eyes. “You don’t  _ know _ .”

“I do know,” Spencer said, his voice still steady, his eyes trained on Nathan’s. “I know what it’s like to be scared of your own mind. I know what it’s like to have to deal with impulses you think you can’t control, and you know what I’ve learned from this? You know why I’m still here?” he asked. Nathan shook his head slightly. “Because I didn’t do it alone,” Spencer said.

Nathan glanced at you, a flicker of recognition crossing his features.

“Who’s she?” Nathan asked him, as if he only now realized you were in the room. “Is she on the team?”

“No, this is (Y/N),” Spencer said, not moving his body from in front of yours. “She’s with me.”

You stepped out next to Spencer, and he dropped the arm that had been held out to protect you. 

“I don’t do it alone,” Spencer repeated. “I had, and have help.”

You felt obligated to say something, but had no idea how to fill the silence that waited for you. 

Stumbling over your words, you said, “Nathan, please, let Spencer help you. I think you’re an incredibly brave boy, but you don’t have to do this on your own. You have to let someone help you.”

Nathan took a breath, glancing down at his knife.

“You asked for help,” Spencer said. “You came to me. You didn’t have to do that. You could have killed that woman. You didn’t. Listen to this voice telling you to get help. Let me help you,” he said. “I can tell you… When I was down, I thought I would never be happy again. But you don’t have feel like this all the time,” Spencer nearly pleaded with him. “You can get better. You just need someone to guide you.”

After listening to your own shaking voice, you realized how calm Spencer’s was. He was absolutely sure of what he was saying. Nathan’s eyes flicked between you and Spencer, then his knife hand dropped to his side, and Spencer rushed to him, gently taking the blade away and wrapping his arms around the boy. 

You heard sirens behind you, and the police came to the door just as Spencer released Nathan. Spencer’s face was full of relief and concern at the same time. He held Nathan’s shoulders as two policemen and one EMT entered the room. With a final sentiment that you couldn’t hear, Spencer stepped back, and let the professionals talk to Nathan. He took your hand and led you out. You glanced back and saw the young police officers talking with Nathan. 

Outside, Hotch and Morgan were pulling up in their SUVs, and they stepped out just as you and Spencer walked into the parking lot.

“What’s going to happen to him?” you asked, glancing back at Nathan who was now being escorted away.

“Hopefully the he’ll get the help he deserves,” Spencer said. “I don’t believe that woman will have stuck around to press any charges, but he’ll admit to attempted murder and attempted suicide, and that will be enough to get him into the institution he needs.”

You nodded, feeling simultaneously proud, sad, and grateful.

Hotch and Morgan walked quickly over to you, and Spencer explained the situation. When he was done talking, the two congratulated Spencer on a job well done. Morgan then hugged you and whispered his thanks that you came along with him. Hotch gave you a side hug and patted Spencer on the shoulder. 

“Well, that’s certainly one way to get back into it, kid,” Morgan said with a half smile.

“I’m just glad this one was a win,” he said. “Or… as close to it as it could be.”

“You did well,” Hotch assured him. “I’m going to go check in with the police.”

Morgan went with him as you and Spencer observed the emergency lights blinking all around you. You sighed heavily, trying to dispel all the tension that had built up in your body. You turned to Spencer, suddenly realizing he had just saved two lives.

“Hey,” you said, placing your hands on his chest. “That was pretty amazing.”

“It was just psychology,” Spencer shrugged. You shook your head.

“That was empathy,” you said. “I’m proud of you. And you know what?” you asked.

“What?”

“I get it,” you said. He quirked his head to the side. “I get it,” you repeated. “Saving lives was so abstract to me. When you said that’s why you needed to go back, it didn’t click. But now… I get it. I see why you’re needed out there.”

He looked at you as if he were discovering something amazing in your eyes. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said softly before kissing you.

Morgan and Hotch returned soon after, and they bid you goodnight, telling Spencer they’d see him the day after tomorrow in the office. Your stomach tightened at the closeness of his return, but you knew it had to be done, and you couldn’t fight it anymore.

You and Spencer returned home and with the help of the falloff of adrenaline, fell quickly to sleep.

In the morning, you woke slowly, and realized that Spencer wasn’t wrapped around you like a vine as he usually was. Instead, you heard a quiet humming sound accompanied by sizzling and plates being set down. Curious, you padded into the kitchen to see Spencer cooking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you greeted as a smile slid onto your features. He whipped around and grinned, stepping toward you.

“Good morning,” he said in an almost sing-song voice. 

Then, without any sort of prelude, he whipped a flower seemingly out of the air, and presented it to you.

“Ah! I love it when you do magic!” you squealed with delight, taking the flower from him and throwing your arms around him. He chuckled.

“I know.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

He detached himself from you to save your pancakes from burning, quickly sliding them onto the plates he had readied. Somehow, he had fashioned the pancakes into Mickey and Minnie Mouse shapes. After gushing over how amazing his creations were, you sat down to eat them, nearly bouncing in your chair with happiness. After the night the two of you had had, something like this was exactly what you needed. It occurred to you that at the beginning of your relationship it would likely have been you to suggest such a mood boosting activity, and now Spencer was taking that initiative. 

You finished up your pancakes and sat back in your chair, fully stuffed. 

“Well, color me impressed,” you grinned.

He smiled and then his features widened as he exclaimed, “Oh!”

He grabbed a remote from his pocket and pointed it at the nearby speaker that held his phone. The speakers started playing music, and you giggled, unsure why this was happening.

“I almost forgot,” he smiled coyly. He stood and offered you his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

You looked down at your attire which consisted of only a large t-shirt, and looked up at him questioningly. He didn’t waiver, and held his hand out for you to take. Sighing, you took it, following him into the living room.

Nat King Cole was playing softly as you wrapped your arms around Spencer’s neck, and he wrapped his around your waist. While on a digital device, the track somehow had that crisp, almost crackly sound of vinyl.

 

_ When I fall in love it will be forever _

_ Or I'll never fall in love  _

 

“Not that I’m complaining,” you started. “But why are you doing all this?”

He pressed his lips together and seemed to consider his words for a moment. 

“Do you remember when you said, ‘Where am I going to find a guy who would ask me to dance in his apartment? Where am I going to find a guy who does magic tricks while he makes me breakfast?’” he recited your words to you.

You couldn’t help but blush and chuckle a little.

“Yes,” you said.

He glanced around the room and then back at you.

“Right here,” he promised. “If you’ll have me, I will be the one to do all of those things with you, and more, as long as you’d like. I’ll be away sometimes, sure, but really, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here to make you breakfast, pull a coin from behind your ear, and dance with you. Always,” he said seriously.

You swallowed hard, hit by the sudden force of commitment Spencer was proposing.

“Then I will always be here to build blanket forts, hold you at night, and kiss you like this,” you said, leaning in to press your lips to his. 

You were gentle, and sure, trying to convey with each kiss how much you cared for him, how much you appreciated all of this, and how lucky you felt.

As you kissed, you heard the song playing in the background, softly, sweetly.

 

_ When I give my heart it will be completely _

_ Or I'll never give my heart _

_ And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too _

_ Is when I fall in love with you. _

 

The song ended, and the room filled with silence. 

“Do you remember the last time we danced?” you smiled, blushing.

“I wanted to kiss you so badly,” Spencer laughed at himself. “But it took everything I had just to dance with you.”

“And now?” you asked.

He chuckled and leaned in, kissing you fully, pressing himself against you.

“Now is much better,” he decided, his eyes still closed from the kiss.

You chuckled, and Spencer opened his eyes to gaze down at you.

“I still love your smile just as much,” he said, seemingly to himself.

You kissed him again, this time taking his hand and dragging him into the bedroom. The two of you made love in between lazing around and reading throughout the whole day. It felt like the last day of summer before school. You knew that he would most likely leave tomorrow and not return for a week, possibly longer. You did your best not to think about it as you focused on his body on yours, his tongue on your neck, his hands on your hips.

By the end of the day, however, as he lay sleeping behind you, it was all you could do not to cry just thinking about what would come in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an enormous obsession with Nat King Cole because I'm apparently 87 years old. The song is called "When I Fall In Love."  
> And again, RIP Anton <3


	13. Chapter 13

Unsurprisingly, you didn’t sleep well. Whenever you managed to drift off for a bit, your dreams were haunted by scenarios in which Spencer was critically injured or killed by deranged serial killers. You jolted awake several times, but did not seem to wake Spencer, who merely held you closer to him as he slept peacefully. You had thought he might have trouble sleeping, that he might be at least somewhat apprehensive about getting back to the job, but apparently you were wrong. 

His alarm went off around seven in the morning, but you were already awake, staring at the clock as it beeped. He groaned as he stretched, wrapping his arms tightly around you, tangling his legs with yours, and peppering your neck with sleepy kisses. You tried to smile at the familiar and lovely sensations, but you found your lips in a tight, worried line. 

“Mmm, do I have to go to work?” Spencer teased, lightly pressing your body against his. You almost smiled, wishing he were seriously reconsidering. 

Knowing it would be selfish to keep him here, you untangled yourself and got up, offering your hand to help him up. His hair was a mess, pointing in all directions. His sleepy eyes blinked at you as he yawned and took your hand. You made a quick breakfast together, mostly in silence, and sat down at the table. 

“You didn’t sleep well,” Spencer said. It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t think I had woken you,” you said, looking down at the table in embarrassment. 

He watched you carefully, and you could feel his eyes on you. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. You glanced up at him, confused.

“Why?” you asked. 

“I assume the dreams were about anxieties surrounding my return today?”

You nodded. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you apologized. 

He chuckled.

“After all the nights I’ve kept you up?”

You tried to smile and failed. 

“Just… catch them and then come back home, okay?” you asked of him.

He nodded, the smile fading from his lips in favor of a serious expression. 

“Always,” he promised.

You sighed and nodded, eating the rest of your breakfast out of obligation rather than hunger.

After breakfast, you sat on the bed, watching him get dressed. He had always worn similar clothes, but his work clothes were just a tad nicer and fit him just a bit tighter. This was a pleasant sight at least, watching him button up his vest and fluff up his hair. It was nice to see him taking pride in his appearance again, and you did find yourself smiling when he presented himself to you.

“It’s like a back to school outfit,” you smirked. “And you’d be the top of the class for brains and style.”

He rolled his eyes and gave an embarrassed laugh. You stood and pressed yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

You felt yourself shaking a little, and tried to calm yourself with a deep breath. You hadn’t anticipated so much anxiety this morning, but it had only increased since your nightmares.

“We’ll most likely have to fly wherever we’re going, so I’ll call you when we land,” he said, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours.

“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

With effort, he pulled away, giving you one quick kiss before slipping out of the door, leaving you alone in his apartment.

You just stood there for a few, long moments, staring. Deciding you couldn’t stay in his apartment forever, you went back over to yours. It almost felt foreign, being at your place. You’d basically started living with Spencer, and seeing all of your stuff and knowing you’d be sleeping here alone for at least a few days was unsettling.

You worried how Spencer would sleep. You worried about everything about him. You had to keep reminding yourself that he was with the team and they could take care of him. Not to mention, as more time went on, he was quite capable of taking care of himself.

You looked at your email and saw a few assignments waiting for you. Trying to keep your mind off of him, you started writing. It worked for a while, but soon you’d finished what you had set out to do, and were stuck in the rut of undesirable thoughts.

You were sure it’d get easier as time went on, but for now it was agonizing. He probably was just on the plane headed to wherever he was needed, but to you, it felt like he was in a warzone, constantly getting bombarded with bullets and bombs.

Somehow, the day passed, and when your phone rang, you didn’t let it get to the second ring before you hastily picked up.

“Hi,” you answered quickly.

“Hey,” Spencer responded, clearly happy to hear your voice. “Sorry it’s so late. Turns out our case is only a few hours away, but we’ve just been so busy I didn’t have time to call. We’re turning in for the night since we’ve done all we can for now.”

“Oh,” you said, somewhat comforted that he wasn’t halfway across the country. “That’s sort of nice.”

“Yeah,” he answered. 

There was silence. Neither of you had experience with what to do or say now. This wasn’t the typical boyfriend checking in from a business trip. You weren’t about to ask,  _ Hi, honey, how was your day? _ Because you already knew the answer.

“What, um, what’s the case?” you asked, unsure if he could tell you. “Is that… okay to ask?”

“I mean I can’t give details, obviously, but it’s in the news that there’s been two abductions. Two young girls. There’s not much to go on,” he said grimly. 

You twisted your bed sheet in your hand nervously.

“That sucks,” was your genius reply. You almost hit yourself in the head.

“Yeah,” he agreed, sighing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite know what to say,” you admitted with a sheepish laugh.

“It’s new for both of us,” he pointed out.

“I miss you,” you said, after a silence. 

Though it had only been a day, it was true. 

“Miss you too,” he said softly.

You heard a male voice utter something in the background and Spencer said something that sounded like an affirmative answer in response. There was a bit of a shuffle, and then Spencer spoke again.

“Morgan wants to say hi,” he said, like a kid giving the phone back to his mom.

You chuckled as the phone was passed.

“Hi,” Morgan greeted you in a sing song voice.

“Hi, Morgan,” you grinned despite yourself. “How you guys doing?” you asked quietly.

“Good, good, we’re all good,” Morgan said. “You’d think the missing girl was you the amount he talks about you, though,” he laughed a little.

“Shut up,” you heard Spencer in the background. 

“I hope you find them,” you added on a serious note. 

“With Pretty Boy on the case, we will,” he said. 

He handed the phone back to Spencer.

“We should get some sleep, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” he said.

“Okay, be safe,” you replied.

“Always,” he said. 

The two of you said goodbye and hung up. It hadn’t sounded like he was out and about chasing down criminals at the moment, and the thought of him safely in a police station was comforting at least. You did your best to occupy your thoughts until you could fall asleep, but you slept lightly, waking at the slightest noise and dreaming about various tragic ends to Spencer’s life.

The next day, you made yourself go out and walk around, trying to window shop and pet a few dogs to forget about the worry that was gnawing a hole in your gut. Spencer had texted good morning but had been understandably busy and not communicated since then. He called around the same time as the night before to catch you up on what was going on, which wasn’t much. They still didn’t have many leads, and time was not on their sides. 

You could hear the stress and exhaustion in his voice, and wondered yet again if he should be back doing this to himself. 

The third day, you had almost gotten into the habit of distracting yourself well enough to make the time go by a little faster. You wrote for your job, went grocery shopping, and managed to organize your closet. 

Around the time he had called the previous nights, you found yourself staring at your phone. No ringing, no text tone, nothing. You frowned, wondering if this were good or bad news. Was he currently saving a life? Or was he trying desperately to save his own? You contemplated calling, but didn’t want to interrupt him.

When the phone rang around eleven, your heart dropped when you saw it was Morgan, not Spencer. Thinking the worst, you braced yourself for bad news.

“Hello?” your voice was thin, wary.

“Hey, dollface, it’s Morgan.”

“Hey,” you said, already knowing from the caller ID. “What’s up?”

“Everything’s fine,” he said, although his tone suggested otherwise. “The kid is fine, and we caught the guy that took those girls,” he said. Again you were confused at his heavy tone carrying such light news.

“Okay, good… Right?” you asked.

“Well, we only found one girl alive,” he said gravely. “And the suspect was killed by the remaining girl’s father.”

“Oh god,” you uttered, sitting down on your bed at the news.

“Yeah. Spencer and I were there when he… There’s no way to put it delicately, shot the guy in the head. It was not a pretty sight and, well, the kid’s pretty messed up about it.”

“Oh no,” you felt your stomach churn. “Should I call him?” you asked.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling you,” Morgan said. He sounded like a therapist, calm and almost distant.

“What should I do?” you asked, wondering just how “messed up” Spencer was. Your mind raced, thinking of his admittance of wanting to use again. Should you have told the team? Would this be a repeat of that time?

“He’s kind of locked away in his room right now and won’t talk to anyone. Now, I know he’s not in danger of anything, we’ve kept a close eye on him, but he’s gotta let someone in soon, and I don’t think it’s going to be one of us.”

You nodded, thinking quickly.

“I can drive down tonight,” you said. 

Looking at the clock, you disregarded the late time. The roads would be nearly clear by the time you headed out. It was only a few hours away and you couldn’t sleep now anyway even if you wanted to.

“I think it would really help,” Morgan said earnestly.

“How are you handling it?” you asked. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to see something like that.”

He sighed heavily.

“You know, it hasn’t hit yet. When it does, I’ll let you know,” he said.

You could understand now why he was sounding so detached, and wished you could say something reassuring, but you had no experience with this.

“Alright, text me the address and I’ll be there as fast as I can,” you said. 

“Thank you,” Morgan said with true gratitude.

You hung up and typed in the address once you’d gotten it. It was a little over two hours away. You packed a bag quickly and started off, driving as fast as you dared without chancing getting pulled over. 

The whole time you drove, you thought about what you would say to him. Would you try to console him? Or would that seem to forced since you had no way of understanding this pain? Would you try to encourage him to keep going and soldier through this? Or should you tell him to give it all up and come back to teaching or something less violent?

You hadn’t decided on a strategy as you pulled into the hotel parking lot. Parking, you called Morgan and he met you in the lobby.

“Hey,” you greeted, feeling like you hadn’t seen him in years. You hugged him tightly and looked up into those sweet brown eyes. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing,” he assured you. You wondered at how well he wore that mask of stability.

Leading you upstairs to the rooms they had been assigned, you wondered if the FBI always traveled in this much style.

Your stomach was doing somersaults as you got to Spencer’s door. Morgan knocked three times, but there was no answer. 

“Hey, kid, someone’s here to see you,” Morgan said, almost playfully. 

You heard light footsteps near the door, and you waited as he undoubtedly looked through the peephole. He opened the door and looked at you with a woeful expression. 

You hadn’t expected him to jump for joy at this surprise visit, but a smile would have been nice, or some kind of acknowledgment that you’d made the drive for a reason.

“You’re… here,” he blinked, registering your face in a territory it had not been before.

“Hi,” you offered, unsure if you should hug him, kiss him, or give him space.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Morgan offered. You smiled politely at him as he left. 

Spencer looked after him with an almost angry expression, but you couldn’t fathom why.

“Can I come in?” you asked. 

It took him a moment to turn his attention back to you. His eyes were still a mixture of anger and sadness, and you felt as though you needed to tiptoe around him, lest you set him off. It was a feeling you hadn’t had very often around him, and only at the beginning of your relationship.

He gestured for you to come inside, though you weren’t sure he actually wanted you there. You put your bag on the floor and walked a ways into the room, not knowing what to say.

“So--”

“Why did Morgan ask you to come here?” Spencer cut you off with an accusatory tone.

Taken aback by the hostility, you blinked, trying to come up with an answer that would make him realize you just cared for him and wanted to be there.

“He was concerned,” you answered honestly. Glancing at the door and feeling very unwelcome, you added, “Should I go?”

Spencer sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“No, please don’t go,” he said softly.

You took a step towards him, careful not to move too quickly or invade his space without permission.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this terrible thing,” you offered. 

He laughed sardonically.

“It wasn’t just me though,” he said. His anger didn’t seem to be directed at you so much as himself, you realized. “Morgan was there too.”

“Yes,” you agreed, having already known this.

“And he’s fine!” Spencer almost shrieked. 

“He’s not fine,” you assured him. “He’s numb.”

He laughed again and wrung his hands together.

“Right, well, when he does start to deal with it, I’m sure no one would call someone to come baby him,” he said, his voice almost venomous. 

“I’m not here to  _ baby _ you,” you said, getting angry yourself. “I’m here because I care and your friend thought it would help you to have me here.”

His eyes flickered with sadness before regaining their bitterness.

“Why do you even want to be here?” he shook his head.

“I told you, I care,” you repeated.

“Why?” he asked again, exasperated. “I should be used to this by now. I should be able to handle it,” he was nearly panting now, completely stressed out. “But I’m weak. Not even my teammates think I can handle this.”

“You’re not weak,” you promised. “And seeing something like that isn’t something you  _ should _ get used to.”

He threw his hands up in the air and almost scoffed at you.

“I’ve seen worse than this, and I was fine before.”

“I doubt you were fine,” you muttered.

“How would you know?” he asked, lashing out. You recoiled and when you did, you saw the regret in his eyes.

“I guess I wouldn't,” you admitted. 

“Jesus, you shouldn’t be with me,” he said, looking down at his disheveled form. “I’m a mess.”

“Don’t say that,” you defended him. 

“Why not? It’s true. You’re dating someone who couldn’t even go back to their job for a week without their boss calling their girlfriend to keep him from falling apart.”

“You are allowed to fall apart,” you assured him. 

“I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he said. You could see the tension in his shoulders and hear it in his voice. 

“I would deal with this a thousand times over,” you assured him. “I’m  _ here,” _ you repeated your old mantra.

“Why though?” he asked. It was as though you had asked him to understand the meaning of the universe. It seemed incomprehensible to him for some reason.

“Because I love you,” you answered simply. 

He blinked. The genius had not been expecting that. His hands dropped to his sides, stilling, and he stood staring at you without breathing.

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard you.

Smiling slightly, you repeated, “Because I love you.”

He blinked rapidly this time and rejoined his hands to wring them together as he licked his lips.

“You love me,” he repeated. You waited for his brain to compute this. “You  _ love _ me,” he said again.

You couldn’t stop the smile as it spread onto your face watching the wheels turn.

“This can’t be a surprise to you,” you chuckled. “What did you think I felt?”

He shook his head and licked his lips again.

“I… I don’t know,” he laughed slightly. “Mild to strong affection?”

You chuckled and shook your head. Suddenly, he seemed to realize something and snapped his gaze to yours.

“I love you too,” he said seriously. “I’ve loved you for a long time, actually,” he added shyly, running a hand through his hair.

You stepped towards him slowly and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands ghosted along your sides before settling on your hips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, knowing that you were to blame for your lack of voicing your feelings too. 

He gave a small shrug and looked over the top of your head.

“Statistically, it seemed improbable to have a favorable response,” he answered.

You couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh. You took your hand and guided his gaze back to yours.

“I’m sorry that I ever gave you that impression,” you said.

“It was a lifetime of evidence against a few months of outlying data,” he replied.

“Is our whole relationship a statistic?” you couldn’t help but smile.

“Not the whole of it,” he smiled back. “This,” he said, pushing back a strand of your hair with a delicate touch, and kissing you lightly, “Cannot be measured.” You blushed.

“What about this?” you asked, kissing him and slipping your tongue into his mouth. You kissed him hard, pressing yourself against him. When you pulled away, his cheeks were flushed and he looked dazed. 

“Mmm-no,” he stammered.

You giggled. He looked at you for a long time, and you at him. This was not how you had envisioned proclaiming your love for him would look like, but it felt right somehow.

Although part of you wanted to continue this game you’d started, another part knew it would only be a distraction from what he really needed - to talk.

You took his hand and guided him to the bed, sitting down first and letting him follow. He seemed to know he would have to tell you about it, and his shoulders sagged as he looked at his hand holding yours.

“It was so… red,” he said quietly. You knew he would never tell this to anyone else and listened carefully. “I tried to stop him. He wanted revenge for the girl’s death. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t and he just…”

You squeezed his hand, watching his eyes search through the horrific memory.

“And then there was just blood everywhere. Almost all of his head just… gone.” He shook his head like he still didn’t believe it. “And then he put down the gun like nothing had happened and surrendered.”

“Oh my god,” you said. “That’s… I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

“He was a normal guy,” Spencer said. “He just picked up the gun and shot the man. An eye for a an eye, as simple as that.”

“I don’t know if it’s ever as simple as that,” you offered. “You never know what someone’s really thinking. He could be feeling immensely guilty, even if he thought the man deserved it.”

He nodded and sighed.

“I study people for a living, but sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever understand them.”

“Well, then it wouldn’t be interesting, would it?” you arched an eyebrow at him.

A small smile played on his lips.

“I suppose not,” he conceded.

Again, his eyes were lost and far away, thinking about the gore he had witnessed.

“It just really sinks in now, you know?” he asked. You nodded. “I’ve had a gun to my head a few times, but after Tobias,” he nearly choked on the name. “It was too close, and now it’s too real. Any of those times, that could have been my head on those walls.”

Your stomach lurched and Spencer noticed you shifting uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“You’re right, though,” you agreed against your will. 

“But we saved that girl,” he said. “I saved that girl.” You nodded. “And, as promised,” he added, looking at you sheepishly, “I’m still here.”

“As am I,” you smiled slightly.

“It’ll get easier,” he said, seeming to mean for the both of you. You nodded again, not entirely convinced of it for yourself at least.

You heard footsteps outside the door, pacing, and realized Morgan was probably wondering how you were doing in here.

“We should probably tell Morgan you didn’t have a meltdown,” you said, glancing towards the door.

Spencer kept his eyes on you.

“One more minute,” he said, running his thumb along your jawline and down across your lips. 

The way he looked at you, like you were the reason the sun rose and fell every day, was mesmerizing. He kissed you lightly, and sat back to stare at you again. It was as if he were trying to memorize every detail of you and this moment, and store it away should he ever be separated from you.

“I love you,” he said softly, like last words.

You cradled his head in your hands and tilted his head towards you, kissing his forehead. 

“I love you too,” you whispered.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from the bed to open the door. As you’d suspected, Morgan was waiting out there, one hand rubbing his neck, pacing. He stopped as Spencer opened the door, and a look of relief washed over him. 

“Hey, man,” Morgan said carefully.

“Hey,” Spencer returned. 

There was some kind of unspoken understanding between them in these few words, and the two hugged briefly after a moment of silence. Morgan then stepped into the room and nodded to you, presumably his way of discretely thanking you.

“We’re heading out tomorrow around ten,” he said to Spencer. Spencer nodded.

“I can just drive us home, if you want,” you offered. Spencer smiled.

“That’s fine with us if it’s fine with you,” Morgan agreed.

“It’s fine with me,” Spencer almost laughed.

Morgan looked relieved to see the small smile on Spencer’s features. You wondered how he was doing, and if he would even tell you the truth if you asked. 

“Alright then. It’s pretty late so, I’ll, uh, leave you to it,” Morgan grinned. 

You blushed at his implication and rolled your eyes.

“Goodnight, Morgan,” you said, holding your arms out for a hug. 

He hugged you, patted Spencer’s shoulder with brotherly affection, and left the room with a wink.

Despite Morgan’s insinuation of your and Spencer’s nighttime activities, you were far too exhausted to do anything other than strip and collapse on the bed. It was almost three in the morning now, and Spencer didn’t seem to mind this unspoken plan. He undressed down to his boxers and slid into bed with you. He held you close to him, tightly, as if you might suddenly slip away.

“How did you sleep?” you asked, your eyes closed, but your brain shifting through ideas still.

Spencer sighed and kissed your neck.

“Horribly,” he admitted. “But I didn’t wake anyone up screaming at least,” he added.

“The silver-ish lining,” you smirked. He chuckled. “I didn’t sleep well either,” you confessed. “It’s like my body is just tense all the time without you.”

“I know what you mean,” he said softly.

And as you said it, you realized how true it was. Your muscles were far more relaxed now that you were in Spencer’s arms than they had been the last few days. It felt like when you unknowingly clench your jaw, and then unclench it to feel the relief. Thankfully, the two of you slept easily through the night and into the morning.

You checked out of the hotel with the rest of the team in the morning. They weren’t surprised to see you, as Morgan had told them before they got down to the lobby that you had made it here, but they didn’t hide their happiness to see you. You received a hug from each of them, none of them mentioning the reason why you had come.

You separated into your cars, and took off, the team’s cars speeding away while you chose to enjoy the drive and the time with Spencer. He sat quietly in the passenger’s seat, rummaging through your CD’s until he found what happened to be your favorite one. You sang along to the tracks and he listened, glancing over at you and getting caught staring a few times. While your voice was nothing to write home about, Spencer listened as if an angel were singing.

The ride home didn’t feel so long as the ride there, passing without anxiety or fear, and actually being rather fun once you got Spencer to sing (albeit quietly) along with you.

When you got home, it was midday, and you unpacked your and Spencer’s clothes, chucking what needed to be washed into the washing machine, and flopping onto the couch. Spencer followed you to the couch and lifted your legs to place on his lap as you lay there watching him.

He stared at you for a long time in silence.

“What?” you asked, chuckling.

“Nothing,” he lied. 

“Come on,” you prompted with a smirk.

“I was just thinking about that time when you mentioned that quote, ‘Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic,’” he mused. “And it made me think of something else Oscar Wilde said.”

He peered at you to assess your interest. Gauging that you were, in fact, interested, he continued. 

“He said, ‘Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary.’”

“You make me feel exceptional,” you assured him. “And to me, you’re far from ordinary.”

He smiled and looked at you.

“The thing is, is that you  _ do _ make me feel ordinary in a way,” he said. When you tried to sit up and tell him he was anything but that, he stopped you by continuing his thought. “All my life people have treated me like I was some kind of robot, or freak.” His eyes turned a shade sadder. “Even the team will joke that I’m not human. And that’s fine,” he nodded almost to reassure himself. “But you never treat me like that. You treat me like the things I say aren’t strange, or annoying, but… ordinary, just like everyone else. And that’s something that no one has ever given me.”

You smiled to yourself. You hadn’t even considered seeing Spencer’s words or actions as anything other than endearing and charming. The fact that no one else had seen him this way was incomprehensible to you.

“So in a way, I love you because you make me feel like a real person,” he said. “And, in a way, you’ve sort of helped me get back to being a real person too.”

You sat up and took one of his hands in yours, kissing it gently.

“You were always a real person,” you assured him. “You just got a little sidetracked.”

He laughed lightly at this and nodded. 

“Why were you thinking about when I said that?” you asked, wondering where this had all come from. 

He blushed slightly and shrugged.

“I was just thinking about when it was that I fell in love with you,” he smiled sheepishly.

“That night?” you asked. “The night you told me everything that happened to you?” you asked.

He shook his head and chuckled. 

“Oh, no. It was long before that,” he laughed. “That was just… confirmation.”

You smiled, thinking about when you knew you loved him. You couldn’t pinpoint it.

“I don’t know when it clicked for me,” you admitted. “But somewhere along the line I realized that I didn’t want to live without you in my life, that I felt safer in your arms than anywhere else, and that you were the greatest story I would ever tell.”

“The greatest story?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Like to our… kids, or whatever,” you pushed a piece of hair nervously behind your ear, not daring to look at him.

“To our kids,” he repeated, his voice a bit strained. 

“Or whoever,” you tried to backpedal.

You felt heat in your cheeks. It was far too early to be thinking about this, and yet after you said it, the thought of one day having kids with Spencer was… intoxicating.

“I think it would be a wonderful story… for them,” he said softly, not daring to look at you either.

The two of you sat there, staring down, blushing. You both knew how early this was. You were only a few months into your relationship. But as early as it was, you knew it was important to know that you had the same ultimate goals.

When you could finally look at him again after the embarrassment had settled, you found yourself drawn to him. You slipped your legs out from under his arms and sat up, moving to straddle him and settling down onto his lap as you kissed him. He had been thinking about something quite intensely, and it took him a moment to realize you were doing something. Once he did, he slid his hands onto your hips and responded to your kiss in kind.

He helped you slide your shirt off, and gently undid the clasp of your bra, sliding it off to meet your shirt on the floor. His touch was languid and leisurely, taking his time as he caressed every inch of you, drawing goosebumps in his fingers’ wake.

Your hands threaded through his hair and held his face to yours, leaving room only for the occasional, ragged breath. 

You helped him out of his shirt and maneuvered him so the two of you were lying down on the couch. You unclasped his belt and wriggled his pants down enough to free his hardening manhood.

Slipping out of your own pants and undergarments, you positioned yourself over him, watching his pupils dilate as he saw you lower yourself onto him. A moan escaped your lips as you settled onto him, feeling him fill you up in every sense. His hands made their way to your hips, gently guiding you down. When you had adjusted to him, you brought your hips up, placing your hands on his chest for leverage. You slowly began to ride him, moving your hips until he moaned beneath you. You started to feel that building inside you, and couldn’t have slowed your pace if you had tried. Spencer was panting beneath you, and you managed to lean down to trap his moan in a kiss. You broke the kiss to straighten back up and rub your own clit as you began to feel your climax coming. Spencer’s hips rose to meet yours, doubling the friction and intensity between you.

You threw your head back as you came, nearly screaming his name as you heard your name mix in the air off of his tongue.

Panting, you rode out your high and stilled, pulling off of him in favor of settling beside him on the couch. Your discarded clothes lay on the floor, and you smiled to yourself as you lazily kissed Spencer’s lips. He seemed unusually dazed, and his lips moved in a vague sentence you did not quite catch.

“What was that?” you asked, almost chuckling.

“I said I love you,” Spencer repeated.

“Mm, I love you too,” you agreed, feeling quite sleepy. 

You settled your naked body against his and stroked patterns onto his chest. His hand ran through your hair, and you both fell asleep within a few minutes.


	14. Chapter 14

With what happened at the end of their last case, Garcia decided to host a charades party in order to get everyone’s mind off of the, “ickiness,” as she called it, that had surrounded them the past couple of days. You were more than enthusiastic, jumping at any chance to hang out with the team, especially in such a fun setting.

Everyone except JJ was able to make it. While she didn’t give an excuse, the team told you she was flying down to Louisiana to see her boyfriend. It occurred to you that the team had personal lives you knew almost nothing about. Hopefully over time they would trust you with their stories, and you would be able to open up to them more too.

You dressed up a little for Garcia’s party, donning a nice fitting pair of jeans, a blouse, and heels. You accessorized a bit more than you usually did, mostly because you knew Garcia would love it. After stopping at a liquor store to pick up some wine, you and Spencer headed over to Garcia’s place. You were the last two to arrive, having spent way too much time listening to Spencer give a detailed but fascinating account of each type of wine’s brewing process. Having settled on a Merlot, you presented it to Garcia as she opened the door.

Peering out from behind her on the couch and assorted chairs were Morgan, Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss.

They all got up to greet the two of you as you entered, and you could feel the genuine happiness caused by your arrival. After hugging and greeting everyone, you opened the wine and got a few glasses out. Taking the drinks and some snacks over to the living room area, you settled down. Garcia’s apartment was exactly what you’d imagined it to be. There were string lights everywhere, various knickknacks from fandoms and thrift stores, and a few sweet smelling candles burning throughout.

There was a couch, two chairs pulled from the kitchen, and one recliner. You were the last to arrive at the seating area, and saw that all the seats were taken. Morgan was about to get up and offer you a seat, but you happily sat down on Spencer’s lap on one of the edge seats of the couch. 

Garcia took some paper and ripped it up, handing each of you a piece of paper to write down a book, television series, or movie that would be acted out by one of the others. The rules were essentially if you recognize that it is your suggestion that the person was acting out, hold your tongue and let others guess, and put it back if it’s your turn. You didn’t bother with teams, happy to just have fun with everyone. 

After handing in your papers, Garcia shuffled them in a bowl and placed the bowl on the coffee table.

“Who goes first?” you asked, excited to see all these people try to communicate through their bodies.

“Hmm, I vote my unbelievably-out-of-a-suit boss, Mr. Hotchner,” she grinned, pointing at Hotch. 

You expected him to refuse, to make some excuse and simply watch the game, but he took a sip of his beer and grudgingly accepted the position.

With a few excited encouragements, you watched Hotch pick up a paper from the bow and study it, showing no sign as to whether it would be easy or difficult. He then pragmatically started by telling you it was four words, and that it was a movie. Everyone knew exactly what the movie was when he had gotten to the fourth word, but you all wordlessly agreed to make it go on just a little longer than necessary. Watching Hotch act as an ape to convey that the movie was  _ Planet of the Apes _ , was too good to pass up.

He soon caught onto the lot of you when you couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore. He actually laughed once he realized you were just messing with him, and you wondered how long it had been since the last time that happened. You watched Spencer laugh too, relishing in how light and happy he seemed in this moment.

Morgan playfully threatened to punch Spencer when he got  _ The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari _ , as a movie, and Spencer tried to give you all a lecture on the importance of German Expressionism in film. You chuckled and kissed him to end the lecture, whispering in his ear that you’d love to hear the rest of it when you got home.

He looked a little sad when you had to get up for your turn, and you could tell he was more comfortable when you were in physical contact with him.

You slid by easily with your turn, having found an easy way to act out  _ Fahrenheit 451 _ , and returned to your seat on Spencer’s lap. During Prentiss and Rossi’s turns, Spencer played with your hair, distracting you by kissing you on the cheek and neck discreetly. 

After Garcia enthusiastically acted out the basic plot to  _ Finding Nemo _ , it was Spencer’s turn. He opened the last paper and looked very confused. 

“I’m not sure what this is,” he said. “It… It’s just a time of day.”

You looked at the team, confused, and heard Garcia laughing. 

“How do you not know what that is?” she asked. “Don’t you read?”

Spencer gave her a look and then shrugged in defeat.

“It’s  _ Twilight _ ,” she laughed.

Spencer still looked confused and you beckoned him to you, taking your place back on his lap once he had sat down.

“It’s a young adult series of books and movies,” you explained. “And I can’t tell you how proud I am that you don’t know of it. There’s far better writing for those fast eyes of yours out there.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek. 

“Speaking of writing,” Rossi said, leaning towards you on his chair beside the couch. “How’s your freelancing coming along?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said. “It’s nice that I get to work when I want to.”

The team muttered their envy at your easy schedule.

“What have you written about lately?” Hotch asked. 

It was strange to have the spotlight on you when all of their jobs were far more interesting. 

“A bit of everything,” you said. “A bit for myself creatively, a little about film, a little about literature. I kind of just do whatever they need me to,” you answered.

“How’d you get into that?” Prentiss asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I was working for a magazine and then my name got around and people started offering me pretty steady freelance work,” you explained. You looked around at them, thinking again about how you didn’t know much about their pasts. “How did you guys get into this?”

You glanced at Garcia first, wanting to hear from everyone, but starting from the person closest to you.

“Oh,” she laughed. “It’s a long story but basically, I was a hacker and then the FBI was all, ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, hire ‘em,’ kind of mentality.”

“Wow,” you grinned. “So you were badass before you were badass with a badge?”

“Well, I don’t know about badass. More like too-much-black-and-not-enough-color-on-my-ass.”

You chuckled and turned to Hotch.

“I was an attorney for a long time,” he said, almost wistfully. 

“I can see that,” you said, envisioning his stern features wearing down a defendant until they confessed. You turned to Prentiss.

“My mother is a diplomat, so I’ve always just sort of been in government one way or another,” she smiled.

“You must have traveled quite a bit,” you observed. She nodded and smiled again.

“Yeah, a bit,” she laughed.

“And you?” you asked Morgan. For some reason he looked far away and seemed to snap back once you called his name.

“Oh, I was a cop in Chicago,” he said. While the other seemed to have enjoyed the telling of their back story, Morgan seemed uneasy sharing.

Hotch noticed this and turned to him. He whispered quietly about something you didn’t hear. It didn’t take long to say and sounded like a name of some kind. Morgan nodded grimly and returned his attention to you.

“Sorry, uh, it’s just weird to think about right now,” he said. 

You felt bad for making him uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, shifting beneath you to lean forward to see his friend better.

“Nothing you need to worry about, kid,” Morgan smiled easily. He seemed to have stemmed whatever strangeness had come over him and was now acting as though everything was fine.

Spencer relaxed back against the couch, not convinced, but unwilling to push it further.

“More drinks!” Garcia suddenly exclaimed, succeeding in changing the mood back to a lighter one and making almost everyone smile.

You jumped up to help her get more wine and beer for your friends, shuffling quickly into the kitchen with her. Nervous that you’d said something wrong to Morgan that everyone else knew to avoid, you asked Garcia quietly about it.

“Did I say something wrong?” you asked. “Morgan seemed upset.”

Garcia sighed and shook her head.

“That man is an enigma,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going with him. He’s been off all week. Even before this booger of a case.”

You glanced back at Morgan who was laughing easily with the rest of the team now.

“I hope he’s okay,” you muttered. 

She gave you a look that told you she agreed, and helped you grab the drinks to bring to the team.

After distributing the drinks, you settled back down onto Spencer’s lap. 

“So, has he told you yet, or was he going to try to slip it by you?” Morgan asked you, a sly smile on his features. 

You glanced at Spencer who looked like Morgan had just betrayed him.

“Tell me what?” you asked your guilty-looking boyfriend.

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes, making it seem as though he were resigning himself to a tragic death.

“My birthday is next Saturday,” he muttered. The team chuckled at his annoyance.

“What?!” you exclaimed. “That gives me almost  _ no time _ to plan anything!”

“That was the idea,” Spencer smirked playfully.

You hit him playfully on the chest and shook your head.

“I said  _ almost, _ ” you said. “Not none.”

He saw the mischievous glint in your eye and looked almost terrified. 

“Morgan, I will be needing your assistance,” you said.

“Whatever you need,” Morgan grinned.

You saw that his enthusiasm and smile both seemed genuine, and you wondered what it was that had tripped him up so badly before. Resigning to focus on the good of the situation, you were glad you had enlisted his help. He seemed to know Spencer the best and would be of great assistance to you in your plans.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me about your birthday?” you asked Spencer.

“Because he knows we’d make him wear the hat again,” Prentiss laughed.

“Why?” Spencer pleaded. 

“Because you look like an adorable cupcake in it,” Garcia smiled. “Well, more so than usual.”

“It does suit you,” Hotch joined in the fun. 

“I think we might have a picture somewhere,” Rossi threatened, looking around at the various picture frames.

“Please, leave me with some dignity,” Spencer begged.

“Hey, I love you no matter what you wear, or how ridiculous it makes you look,” you promised, kissing him quickly.

You saw Hotch’s eyebrows lower when you turned back to the team, and it occurred to you that you’d just proclaimed your love for one of their team members in front of them. You could tell by the shy smiles that the team approved of your relationship moving forward, and it felt nice to have that support.

The evening wrapped up soon after that, all of you lamenting that you had to leave. You made plans with Morgan to go pick up some decorations, presents, and to place an order for a cake on the upcoming Wednesday, provided they weren’t on a case. Spencer seemed grudgingly appreciative of these upcoming plans.

You said goodnight to everyone, thanking Garcia for her hospitality, and leaving with a good feeling in your heart. Despite all the darkness these people went through every day, they were still able to find the light and enjoy it once in awhile.

Spencer drove home, since you were a little tipsy from the wine you’d been drinking all night, and you playfully teased him about fake extravagant plans you were making for his birthday.

He smiled as he drove and listened to your prattling until you got inside. He made you drink some water to combat the wine before you went to bed, and you fell asleep dreaming of your wonderful night of charades and friends.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the love <3 will update again soon!

The team wasn’t needed on any cases during the four day interval between the party and your plans with Morgan to do some birthday shopping. It was nice to have Spencer around, at least after he came home from work. Just because they weren’t called in a case didn’t mean they didn’t consult on horrible happenings, and you could tell he was a little more drained than he would admit. You tried your best to make him smile, whether it be trying your own hand at a magic trick, or dressing up in some lingerie.

He clung to you in the minutes before Morgan arrived, holding your hips from behind and pressing himself against you as if he could convince you not to go. You giggled at his futile attempts and had to drag him along with you to the door to let Morgan in.

“Welcome to the planning committee’s first outing,” you greeted with a smile. 

“Is he coming?” Morgan smirked at Spencer’s attachment. 

“No. He’s going to stay here and practice his surprise face for his party that  _ would _ have been a surprise if I had known about it.”

Spencer grudgingly let go of you, and shrugged.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

“It’s relevant,” you assured him, grabbing your purse. “Let’s go,” you smiled at Morgan.

“Later, kid,” Morgan grinned, closing the door behind the two of you. You left Spencer standing looking a bit lost in the apartment.

Walking down to Morgan’s car, you felt him grinning at you.

“What?” you laughed, catching him staring.

“Nothing,” he teased, bumping his shoulder lightly into yours.

“Okay, so that mischievous grin is for nothing then?” you asked.

He shrugged. 

“Just… you two seem really happy,” he noted. 

“We are,” you answered honestly.

“Good,” he said. 

You reached his car and he opened the door for you. It was a much smaller car than you’d usually seen him in, probably his own rather than an FBI car. You settled in, and Morgan began to drive. 

“So how are you dealing with the whole back on the job thing?” he asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You sighed.

“As good as can be expected,” you answered. “How are you doing?” you asked, thinking about the horror he and Spencer had witnessed. “Still numb?”

He shook his head.

“Nah, I feel it,” he said grimly. “But that’s nothing for you to worry about.”

You put your hand on shoulder.

“I do worry,” you said. 

He gave you a quick smile and then turned his attention back to the road.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you. You bit your lip, still worried.

“Well, if you need anyone to talk to,” you mumbled, feeling silly asking this man to share his deepest thoughts with you when he didn’t even want to talk about his past.

“Thanks,” he said as he pulled into the shopping center. Putting the car in park, he looked at you and added, “I really do appreciate that.”

You nodded and the two of you got out of the car, heading towards the shop that sold party supplies. You sifted through various banners, signs, and streamers, picking out only the most ludicrous and over the top designs. You bought an extra cake cat just in case they couldn’t find the old one in the office too. When you were sure that you had bought a sufficient amount of decorations, you dropped them off in the car and decided to just walk to the grocery store where you would order your cake.

You were enjoying your walk in the nice weather, but you noticed Morgan seemed on edge being out in the open for some reason. You asked him if he was alright, but he answered distractedly, his attention on his surroundings. Whether it was Morgan’s alertness or something else, you didn't know, but it did feel like someone was watching you as you made the short walk over to the store.

Once you were inside, he seemed to relax a little, and the two of you ordered a cake sweet enough for even Spencer’s sweet tooth. You informed the bakery that you were most likely having the party that Saturday, but your plans could change at any moment based on his job. The man suggested calling a few hours ahead of the pickup time to let them know one way or the other, and you agreed. 

With the decorations and cake ordering taken care of, you rode with Morgan back home. He was strangely quiet, and you wondered what he had seen or simply thought of to get in this mood. Were you the cause of it somehow?

You made it back to your place and found Spencer reading a book as you walked in. He put it down in favor of speed walking to the door to hug you and kiss the top of your head. It was as if you’d been gone for weeks instead of about an hour.

“Wait till you see what we got,” Morgan grinned. Spencer groaned. 

“It’s not so bad,” you assured him.

Morgan raised his eyebrows and laughed, causing Spencer to look quite pained with the potential embarrassment.

“Thanks for your help,” you said to Morgan as he made his way to the door. “And I meant what I said earlier,” you added quietly. “You can always call me.”

“Thanks, darling,” he said sweetly. He kissed your cheek lightly and nodded to Spencer as he left.

Spencer walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“What was that about?” he asked, confused.

“I just offered to be there for Morgan if he needed to talk about… you know, what you guys saw the other week, or whatever,” you shrugged.

“That was nice of you,” Spencer noted. 

“Yeah, well, I’m a nice person,” you laughed.

“It really means a lot to me that you like my friends,” he said softly. 

“I love them,” you assured him. You looked at him closely for a minute and then asked, “This is okay, right? The birthday stuff?”

He smiled and nodded.

“I’m just not used to the attention,” he said. 

“You didn’t celebrate when you were younger?” you asked.

His eyes grew sadder, and you regretted asking the question.

“I didn’t really have many friends when I was younger. I graduated high school when I was twelve years old, so I wasn’t exactly at the same level with a lot of my classmates,” he said with a sardonic smile. 

“I almost forgot you’re a genius,” you smirked. 

“And my dad wasn’t around for long,” he added. “After he left, my mom just kept getting sicker so… There wasn’t really anyone to make a cake, you know?”

The way he said it made your heart break. He didn’t sound particularly surprised that this had been his fate, nor did he explicitly want you to feel pity or sympathy for him. He was just telling you what happened to him. You listened, and then you kissed him.

“From now on, your birthday is a national holiday, okay?” you promised. “I want to celebrate the day you came into this world for the rest of our lives.”

You realized after you had said it what kind of commitment you were proposing. You blushed, but Spencer merely nodded in agreement, not pushing anything and not disagreeing.

“You guys better not have a case tomorrow, because I’m asking the girls to go shopping with me for a present for you,” you added.

“You don’t have to get me anything,” he said, looking almost guilty at all this attention.

“Those are the rules,” you chided.

He sighed in defeat and kissed your forehead sweetly. 

Shortly after, you texted the girls to see if they could help you out after they got out of work the next day. They were thrilled, and the four of you made plans to go shopping after getting a quick bite to eat.

Despite Spencer’s protests that you really didn’t need to get him anything, that he was happy just being with you, you left with a kiss and a wave, taking the three beautiful ladies out for dinner and a fun shopping spree.

You got Mexican food and sat down, taking some time to chat before you got into the shopping. 

“Sorry you couldn’t make charades night,” you frowned at JJ. “We missed you.”

“Oh I think she had plenty of fun,” Prentiss teased, raising her eyebrows suggestively and poking JJ in the arm.

JJ laughed and shook her head.

“I did,” she agreed sheepishly. “Will’s… he’s great,” she said, almost wistfully. 

“Aw, good I’m glad,” you smiled. 

“That accent is a plus,” Garcia added. 

“It’s not bad,” JJ agreed, explaining that Will was from the south.

“So, are things serious then?” Prentiss asked, taking a bite of her burrito.

“Yeah, I think so,” JJ smiled. 

“I don’t even have to ask this one,” Prentiss pointed at you, grinning. 

“Yeah, we all know, that’s for sure,” Garcia laughed.

“What do you mean? How do you know?” you asked, trying not to laugh at their genuine happiness.

“Well,” Prentiss said, holding out her fingers to list off reasons. “You’re smart, beautiful, caring, intuitive, magnanimous, I could go on with at least twenty more adjectives that Reid has used to describe you, or I could mention the amount of time he spends referencing you, or something you’ve said, or I could explain the way he looks at you--”

“Okay,” you laughed. “I get it.”

“We all got it. The genius is in looooove,” Garcia teased. “My junior G-Man is growing up so fast.”

“Do you know what you want to get him for a present?” JJ asked.

You shook your head.

“I have some general ideas, but nothing solid. Hoping inspiration will strike and the planets will align and all that.”

“Let’s see if we can make that happen,” Garcia smiled.

You finished up your meals and set off on your shopping adventure. It felt so nice to be accepted as one of the girls, and you were having a great time. You window shopped for a while, going into a few stores here and there. 

Finally, you found the present you wanted to give to Spencer. It was simple, but the idea behind it was perfect. After making your purchase, the girls persuaded you to go into a lingerie store and helped you pick out a cute set of lingerie to make Spencer’s birthday night unforgettable. 

You hoped the rest of the week would pass without incident, but the team was called away early Thursday morning to assist on a missing child’s case. The boy was six years old, and had been taken on his way home from school. You stressed about Spencer as well as the missing child, hoping selfishly that they would find the child in time for everything you had planned. You thought the universe owed you this, seeing how much atrocity Spencer waded through for his job, that he should have this one great birthday.

Thankfully, the team recovered the boy by Friday afternoon. He was unharmed, and Spencer’s relief was evident on the phone. He flew back by Friday night, and you jumped into his arms as he crossed the threshold. 

While he should have been in good spirits from saving the boy’s life, he seemed tired and weighed down by something. You figured he probably hadn’t slept in the past night, and that was all. However, when he woke up screaming and thrashing that night, you knew something was up.

It was only around midnight, but the two of you had been asleep for a few hours since he was so exhausted. You woke to Spencer’s thrashing limbs and frantic mutterings. You blinked in the dark, unsure what was happening. This hadn’t happened to him in months, and you weren’t sure why it was happening now.

Calmly, you caressed his cheek, using your other hand to still his limbs and gently shake him. 

“Spencer, wake up,” you said, loudly enough to rouse him.

He gasped as he opened his eyes, and you could see sweat forming on his forehead. 

“You okay?” you asked hesitantly.

He swallowed and sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow. He sputtered and blinked for a moment before looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said breathlessly. “I’m fine. Sorry,” he added as an afterthought.

He seemed distracted, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Was it Tobias again?” you asked quietly. His attention snapped to you.

“No,” he answered barely above a whisper.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, unsure how much you should press.

He sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, just a dream. Let’s get back to sleep so I have enough energy to act surprised,” he said. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

You nodded, feeling a little hurt that he would keep this from you, but forcing yourself to understand that there might be some things he wasn’t ready to share with you.

Sliding back into his arms, you listened to his even breath. Soon you were back asleep, and slept soundly until the morning.

Your alarm went off, waking you up in time to call the baker to tell him the party was still on, and to make the cake. He confirmed your order, and you called Morgan to tell him the plan was still on.

Spencer laid sprawled on the bed, watching you begin to pull his birthday party together with a look of mild amusement. He looked tired, although you didn’t want to bring up the previous night.

“Come on, birthday boy, pancake time,” you ordered. “Or would you like something else for breakfast?” you winked at him suggestively.

He blushed and smiled down at the bed.

“Both?” he asked sheepishly.

You laughed and jumped over to straddle him, kissing him deeply in between smiling and laughing. After fully satisfying both of you, you showered together and made your way over to the kitchen. You did your best to make shapes out of the pancakes like he had done for you, but found your Simba looked more like the monster from  _ The Blob _ . 

Spencer didn’t seem to mind your inartful pancakes, and happily ate them with you. He complained he was already being too spoiled, but you would have none of it. 

“Just wait until you see all the decorations and the cake and presents,” you teased. 

He laughed and sat back in his chair, watching you finish up your pancakes.

You nearly jumped and ran to the door when Morgan knocked. As he came in, he sang a quick rendition of “Happy Birthday,” much to your joy and Spencer’s chagrin.

“How’s it feel to be a year older, Pretty Boy?” he asked, ruffling Spencer’s hair.    
Although Morgan seemed to be okay on the surface, you felt something was still off about him. Perhaps he was still dealing with the most recent atrocities they had seen, but it felt like something else. It felt like fear. Now you realized why Spencer had called you intuitive.

You watched Morgan carefully as he smiled at you and asked if you were ready to go pick up the cake. You could have gone by yourself of course, but it seemed Morgan was just as enthusiastic in giving Spencer a great birthday as you were.

Morgan insisted on driving, and he parked in a lot across the street from the bakery. You got out with him and walked across the street. It must be something on this street that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, because you’d felt the same thing the last time you were here. It felt like someone was watching you, but there wasn’t really anyone around. Morgan was inconspicuously on edge, looking around just a bit too much to be watching for traffic before crossing the street. You wondered what was bothering him and why he wouldn’t just tell you what was going on.

You felt better as you entered the bakery, paying for the cake and wrapping it up in a box.

You carried the cake as the two of you exited the shop. You were about three quarters of the way across the street when something made you turn around. Again you had felt like someone was watching you. Turning, expecting to see nothing, you had to do a double take when you saw him. A man was walking behind you, completely focused on Morgan, and pulling a large handgun out of the waistband of his pants.

“Morgan!” you heard yourself scream as the man aimed the gun.

Morgan turned around quickly, but you saw the man cock the gun. You dropped the cake, pushing Morgan sideways as the gun fired. 

BANG. BANG.

Two shots and then running.

The world was spinning as you tried to figure out what just happened. The man who had fired was sprinting down the street, gun in hand, not looking back. You turned to where Morgan had been standing, and tilted your head down. He was laying on the ground, bleeding.


	16. Chapter 16

Your whole body trembled with fear. It felt like you had shrunk inside yourself, that your body was too big to operate all of the sudden. Morgan blinked a few times and then closed his eyes. You knelt down quickly, your hands shaking.

“Morgan!” you yelled. His eyes blinked back open. You looked around, and saw the bakery owner had come out of his store. “Call an ambulance!” you screamed. 

He rushed back into the store and you returned your attention to Morgan. Adrenaline rushed through your veins and you tried to assess where the bleeding was coming from. You lifted his shirt up and saw it was about a third of the way across his abdomen, and bleeding profusely. Seeing no other option to staunch the blood, you ripped off your shirt and applied the most pressure that you could with it. 

“Morgan, Morgan,” you repeated anxiously as his gaze drifted from the sky to your face. “Hey, stay with me, okay?” you prompted, alternating your gaze between his face and the wound. Your shirt was already soaked through, and you didn’t have any other clothing that would help soak it up. 

The baker came rushing out with a few towels, and you eagerly grabbed them, taking your shirt away to replace it with a towel. Your shirt was drenched, and the moment after you placed the towel on Morgan’s stomach, you could feel it dampening.

“Morgan!” you yelled as he closed his eyes.

“The ambulance will be here soon,” the baker assured you, his voice trembling. “Is it safe to be out here? Should we try to move him?” he asked.

You looked around quickly. The man who had shot him had run away, probably in fear of the cops. You wondered what you’d be looking at now if you hadn’t turned around when you had. No doubt the man would have had the time to make this shot lethal. As it were, it was still pretty bad.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to move him,” you decided, noticing that the ground where he had fallen wasn’t nearly as soaked with blood as the top wound. Perhaps the bullet had not gone all the way through, and gravity was keeping it in place. You could risk dislodging it and making things worse.

“Morgan, hey!” you said, taking one hand away to slap his face lightly. He startled at least partially awake to look at you. “Hey, hey, talk to me,” you said, your voice calmer than you’d anticipated. “Tell me about something. Tell me about your favorite food, your favorite film, anything.”

“He shot me,” Morgan slurred. “James… something. Knew it.”

“What?” you asked, watching his eyes close again. “Hey! Stay awake!” you begged.

The towel was beginning to soak through, and the baker handed you a second one.

“I’ll get more,” he said before hurrying back to his shop.

In the distance you could hear sirens, and you could only hope they would get here in time. Morgan’s eyes had closed, and you couldn’t get him to open them by yelling or shaking him. You began to cry as you held the pressure onto his stomach, hoping that it would be enough until the EMT’s could get there.

The baker returned once more with more towels and a jacket. You didn’t even notice as he draped the jacket over your shoulders, covering you. 

The sirens were getting closer.

“Morgan!” you screamed again, but he wasn’t responding. You could still feel a pulse, but it was weak.

The sirens screeched towards you, and finally sped around the corner, stopping just feet from you. The technicians came rushing towards you with a stretcher and supplies. 

“He was shot,” you said, backing away once the female technician had taken your place holding the pressure. 

You wrapped the jacket closer around you, feeling cold despite the heat. The technicians loaded Morgan onto the stretcher and extended it to wheel it towards the ambulance. 

“Can I come with you?” you nearly begged. The woman turned to you and nodded. 

“Front seat,” she ordered before her partner slipped into the back with Morgan and closed the door.

“Thank you,” you said. “And thank you,” you yelled back to the baker who stood gravely in the road.

You opened the passenger side door and slipped in, glancing back to see if you could figure out Morgan’s condition. All you saw was a blur of machinery and the male technician moving quickly around him. 

You put your arms into the jacket the baker had given you and shivered. The woman driving didn’t pay any attention to anything other than driving as fast as possible to the hospital. You thanked her silently for that.

Your heart was still ramming against your chest as you pulled into the hospital emergency bay. You exited quickly and rushed alongside them, shouting Morgan’s name in vain to try to wake him up again.

Once they barrelled through the doors, barking stats and exchanging vernacular you did not understand, you were left alone and shivering in the lobby, told to wait there while they attended to Morgan in surgery.

Your hands were still shaking and you were frozen in the middle of the lobby.

“Miss, are you okay?” a short nurse asked you.

You blinked and looked at her, confused.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, pointing to your hip.

“That’s not my blood,” you answered gravely. 

She took a step towards you and moved the jacket out of the way.

“No, you’re bleeding,” she repeated, showing you a shallow wound just above your hip bone. The second bullet. Morgan had been hit once. The second bullet must have glanced off your side. You hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh,” was all you could think to say.

“Come with me,” she said, taking your hand lightly.

You glanced at the door they had taken Morgan through, and grimaced. 

“There’s nothing you can do for your friend right now,” she assured you in a calm tone. You were sure she used that tone a lot here.

You nodded and then realized something. 

“I have to call my boyfriend,” you nearly gasped. 

“Okay, you can call him, but we need to get you to stop bleeding first,” she said. 

You looked at your wound. It wasn’t anything that a few stitches wouldn’t fix, but it was bleeding, covering your leg with sticky, red liquid. You took a deep breath and nodded, following her to a station. She helped you onto the bed and took out what looked like a sewing kit. 

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off a little, the pain started to seep in. 

“I’m just going to numb it first, and then we’ll stitch you up, okay?” she asked. 

You nodded, wincing at the size of the needle as she injected you with the numbing agent.

Soon, you couldn’t feel anything, and the nurse stitched you up quickly and precisely. You had no doubt that it would leave a scar, but she did the best she could.

“I’ll call a doctor over just to make sure everything else is alright. It’ll be a minute, so go ahead and call whoever you need to,” she said.

You thanked her and whipped out your phone, your fingers shaking, hovering just above the call button for Spencer’s number. What would you even say? How do you tell someone their best friend and girlfriend have been in a shooting?

Taking a deep breath, you dialed.

“You better not be getting me any ridiculous birthday crowns or anything,” Spencer answered with a light tone.

“Spencer,” you said, hearing the dire strain in your voice.

“What happened?” Spencer said, his voice lowering and becoming quickly serious.

“I… I…” You felt the tears coming, but fought them off. “We were in the street and there was this guy, and he shot at us, and Morgan got hit bad, and I just got a scrape… And we’re at the hospital and I don’t know what’s going on. He ran away, Spencer,” you got it all out and then started to sob. 

The other patients and nurses glanced at you with worried looks, but you just held your head in your hands. You could hear shuffling on the other end.

“Which hospital?” he asked evenly. 

You gave him the name of the hospital.

“I’ll be there in five. I’m calling the team. Text me if there are any updates.”

You told him you would and hung up, sniffling and trying to calm your breathing. As you calmed yourself, the nurse returned with a hospital gown.

“I thought you might like this instead of just a bra and bloody jacket,” she smiled kindly at you.

“Thank you,” you said, realizing how much you were relying on other people’s kindness in the past hour.

She nodded and left, assuring you that the doctor would be by shortly. You pulled the curtain around the station enough to change, feeling better just being out of those clothes.

Within ten minutes, you saw a raggedy man rushing into the ER, his bag slung over his shoulder, and a frantic look in his eyes. He spotted you before you could call to him and you slid off the table, careful not to rip your stitches. Spencer rushed to you and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you to him and kissing you as if it were the last time he ever could. 

“Thank God you’re alive,” he breathed when you finally separated.

You breathed him in, your hands greedily outlining his face and chest to make sure he, too, was real.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I should have seen him sooner.”

Spencer shook his head and gestured for you to sit back down on the bed.

“What happened?” he asked. 

Just then, a doctor approached you, followed by a policeman.

“Hi there,” the doctor greeted you with a mixture of kindness and formality.

“Hi,” you responded softly. 

Spencer stood to be closer to you. 

“I’m here to just give you a second look, and he’s here to take a statement,” the doctor said. You read on his nametag it said Dr. Keaton. “It’s protocol in a shooting,” he added. 

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” Spencer introduced himself without extending his hand. “I’m an FBI agent. The man who was shot was also an FBI agent.”

The policeman, Det. Berg, his badge read, looked alarmed.

“An FBI agent?” he asked, his eyes growing a tad larger. He was a good-looking African American man with a strong brow and wide set shoulders.

“Yes, and I believe I know who is responsible,” you heard a voice from behind them call out.

Hotch approached you with tenderness and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, feeling incredibly guilty for some reason.

“You said you know who might have shot him?” Detective Berg asked. 

Hotch turned to face him and nodded sternly. 

“I’m SSA Hotchner with the FBI. I believe this man was someone Derek Morgan put away when he was a cop in Chicago. He expressed his concerns to me that one of the men he put away would be getting out soon. I clearly didn’t give the matter as much attention as I should have.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Spencer offered.

Hotch nodded, unconvinced, and took out his phone.

“Are you FBI too?” Berg asked you.

You shook your head. He looked somewhat surprised, but nodded, taking down the note.

“Do you know how Morgan is doing?” you asked the doctor. He shook his head.

“I haven’t seen him, but I assume he’s still in surgery. We’ll let you know when he’s out.”

Your stomach churned. What if he didn’t make it out?

Doctor Keaton stepped towards you and started rechecking your vitals, inspecting your stitches, and making sure your reflexes were all normal. Once he was done, he stepped aside to let Berg take your statement.

After accounting for everything you could remember, Hotch searched quickly for something on his phone. He held up a picture for you. You gulped, recognizing the man who had shot you and Morgan.

“That’s him,” you confirmed, your throat tight.

“James Romanski,” Hotch confirmed. “He was a leader of a prostitution ring Morgan had nabbed who had a particularly vengeful attitude towards him.”

Your mind couldn’t stop replaying the shooting, trying to think of what you could have done differently to ensure Morgan’s survival.

“I’ll put a BOLO out for him,” Hotch said. “Excuse me,” he turned to make the necessary calls.

“Hey,” Spencer said, drawing your attention away from Hotch. “He’s going to be okay,” he assured you. 

You wished you knew if this were true. You just nodded, too tired to argue. The rest of the team arrived within the next half hour, all desperate to see you and to know how Morgan was doing. You got gentle hugs from everyone, and tried to focus on them, rather than torture yourself with what Morgan was going through right now.

You were cleared to leave within the hour, and after wiping off most of the blood on your leg and hands, you and Spencer joined the team to wait for Morgan’s doctor to come out of surgery. Although most of the blood was gone, you still felt sticky and drenched in it. You could feel it in your hair, and under your nails. Morgan’s blood. Morgan who could very well be dying right now because you made him come with you to pick up a cake.

About an hour later, after you had almost fallen asleep from the sheer falloff of adrenaline, the doctor emerged. For some reason, you thought he would be covered in blood, but he was clean, walking out calmly with an unreadable expression.

Everyone stood, almost in unison, and waited impatiently for the doctor to speak.

“It was close, but he made it,” the doctor said. 

Everyone sighed and hugged each other, then awaited the next words.

“If whoever was with him hadn’t tried to stop the bleeding when they did, he most definitely would have bled out,” the doctor said.

The team turned to you, and the doctor realized it was you who had done this.

“You saved his life,” the doctor assured you.

You sighed and nearly dropped to your knees with relief. Morgan was alive. He would live. Spencer caught you before you could collapse, and led you to a chair. 

“He’ll need to recuperate this evening and tonight,” the doctor said. “But he should be ready for visitors in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Hotch said. His sincerity was striking, and the doctor shook his hand and took his leave.

“You saved his life,” Spencer marveled. 

“I had some help,” you admitted. “Oh my god, I dropped your cake,” you realized with sudden, inproportional horror.

The team chuckled along with Spencer. 

“God, this must be the worst birthday ever,” you mumbled.

“Surprisingly, it’s not,” he assured you. This made you both relieved and concerned, but you didn’t have energy to think about that right now.

“The baker’s the one who helped me,” you added. “He brought towels once my shirt was soaked. “We’ll have to wash his jacket for him,” you added, feeling sick looking at all the blood on it.

There was a silence then, and you felt the team’s eyes on you. You rested your head in your hands, feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. Spencer’s arm was around your shoulder, holding you to him. You suspected he wouldn’t leave your side for a long time, even after the man who shot Morgan was apprehended.

“While I don’t believe he will come after you, I would feel better if the two of you stayed at the bureau until we apprehended him,” Hotch suggested, although his tone and serious eyes made you sure it was non-negotiable. 

“There’s a spare cot somewhere,” Garcia offered. “I can help you find it. And I think I dashed away a hot plate and some whiskey,” she winked at you.

You sighed, knowing this was the better option, but longing for your bed. Then again, would you be able to sleep, or would you be constantly worrying about Morgan?

“Garcia and I will drive them over, Prentiss, JJ, the two of you head over to the police station and prepare a press release. We want this guy’s photo everywhere and they’re going to need your help. Garcia, when we get back I’d like you to look into Romanski’s finances, make sure he hasn’t been up to anything since the shooting that might help us track him. He’s smart, so it’s unlikely, but we can’t leave any stone unturned. Provided nothing happens tonight, we’ll meet here first thing in the morning for Morgan,” Hotch ordered. You could see how he was an effective team leader.

Prentiss and JJ nodded and left with a sympathetic glance towards you. Garcia and Hotch led you to their waiting SUV and you climbed in the back with Spencer. Although it felt like it should be the middle of the night, it was really only about five in the afternoon. Your lids felt heavy as you leaned against the cool glass of the car window. 

You arrived at FBI headquarters fairly quickly and were escorted inside and upstairs. Spencer’s hand was in yours, but you could barely feel anything at the moment, other than Spencer’s intense gaze. You just focused on one foot in front of the other as you were led through various hallways.

“You’ll be most comfortable in here,” Garcia said, motioning into an almost empty office. Someone must have recently left. There was office furniture, but it was all moved to the side of the office, everything cleared out off the shelves, and the drawers open.

“I’ll grab the mattress and some sheets,” she smiled sympathetically.

You thanked her and grabbed an office chair to sit down in. You held your head in your hands, pressing your closed eyes to your palms.

Spencer took a deep breath and walked over to you. He squatted down to your level, loosely prying your hands away from your face. He took your hands in his and kissed them. His eyes were searching yours, like you were somehow shifting in and out of focus. You noticed his eyes brimming and suddenly a few tears spilled out of them. 

“Oh, no please don’t cry,” you pleaded. “It’s your birthday. I’m fine, Morgan’s fine,” you assured him, feeling guilty that you were basically the cause of all this.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his cheeks on his shirt without taking his hands from yours. “It just hit me… I could have lost you today,” he said.

“But you didn’t,” you assured him. “I’m still right here. Always right here,” you repeated your old mantra.

“I know,” he said, smiling a little. “I just feel like I attract danger to me… We all do,” he said.

You shrugged.

“Part of the territory,” you said.

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“You should stop apologizing,” you smirked. 

“I love you,” he said quietly, but seriously. 

You kissed him gently.

“I love you too,” you said.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, glancing down at your wounded side. It was covered by the hospital gown at the moment.

“Not yet,” you sighed. “But I’m sure as soon as the local numbing thing wears off it will.”

“Lidocaine,” he said. You cocked your head to the side. “That’s the numbing thing,” he smiled.

“That’s why I love you,” you smirked.

He kissed you then, and you could feel the relief in his kiss. It felt so good to know how loved you were by this man, what it meant to him that you had survived.

“Oh, sorry, I can come back,” Garcia stuttered, appearing in the doorway with the promised items.

“It’s fine,” you blushed. 

Spencer cleared his throat and stood, clearly nervous at the interruption. Perhaps he didn’t like his team seeing him vulnerable with you.

Hotch’s footsteps sounded as he approached and he carried two pillows to go with the mattress. They looked as though they’d been pulled from a lobby couch, but that was fine with you.

“The best I could do,” he offered them over.

Spencer took them, thanking him. Garcia helped get the mattress into the office and laid it down. It was only a twin, the two pillows barely fit on it. She draped a blanket over it, grimacing, but it looked like the most inviting place for you to be at the moment.

“Sorry we couldn’t do any better,” she said. “Oh!” she remembered, pulling a bottle out of her purse. “Rossi won’t mind,” she smiled.

Spencer took the bottle with a small laugh and placed it on the ledge by the door.

“Would it be possible for me to shower?” you asked, feeling like you were caked with blood and sweat.

“There are locker rooms downstairs, Reid can show you,” Hotch nodded. 

“Do you need anything else?” Garcia asked. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head. 

“Well, there’s stuff in the break room, take whatever you want,” she offered. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“I’m going to be in my office for the next few hours if you need anything, and you can always reach me on my cell. No one’s getting into this building who isn’t FBI so you’re safe,” Hotch assured you. 

“Thank you,” you said, trying to make him understand how protected and safe you felt. 

Hotch nodded, and you presumed he wanted to leave it at that, but you stepped forward and hugged him, careful not to press yourself against him where you were wounded. He hesitated at first. You’d only ever hugged him quickly in greeting, but this was different. This was your way of showing him how much he meant to you. You got the feeling he wasn’t hugged a lot by the way he stood for a moment, but eventually he wrapped his arms tentatively around you and sighed. Pulling away, you saw a softness in his eyes and a small smile. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he said again, nodding at Spencer and Garcia before taking his leave.

“Same,” Garcia offered. 

She hugged you gently and kissed your cheek as she pulled away. “Goodnight, my sweet sugar gumdrops,” she said, blowing a kiss as she left.

Spencer waited a moment before turning to you.

“Shower?” he asked.

You nodded and he took your hand to lead you down the halls and into an elevator. Once you arrived on the floor he had picked, you followed him blindly down different hallways. It felt like you were in a new school, or away at summer camp. He finally found the women’s locker room and knocked. When no one answered, he walked in with you. He showed you to the showers and you stepped up to them. Spencer turned and browsed the lockers, stopping at Prentiss’ locker. He opened it and pulled out travel sized toiletries.

“She won’t mind,” he explained. You were sure he was right, and took the supplies. “I’ll go grab something for you to change into,” he offered. “I’ll be back in a second.”

You nodded, turning on the water and stepping out of your hospital gown. The water warmed quickly, and you stepped in, letting yourself just stand there for a moment and breathe. You took some body wash and tried your best to lather away the blood. Then, you washed your hair, letting yourself take longer than necessary until you felt absolutely clean again. 

You heard the door open and close, followed by Spencer’s footsteps. He came in just as you were finishing up, and you shut off the water. Turning to him, you saw he held FBI sweatpants and an oversized shirt along with a towel.

As you took the towel and dried off, you felt Spencer watching you carefully. You knew where his eyes were fixated before you even looked up. The small stitches stuck out on your skin, and were like a magnet to his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, hanging up the towel, and walking over to him to take his hand. You lightly guided his hand over the stitches to show him how little it was.

He winced, more at the fact that there were stitches, rather than revulsion at the touching of the wound.

“It’s tiny, barely noticeable,” you lied. In fact, it was about three inches long, stretching from just above your hip around to your back.

“It shouldn’t be there at all,” he said softly, his voice choking a little.

“It’s not your fault at all, if that’s what you're thinking,” you told him.

“It’s  _ my _ birthday,” he said. “I should have fought it harder. I knew it wouldn’t work out.”

“You did not,” you scolded him. “And I still want your birthday party to happen… We just… will need to make a rain check for when Morgan is better.”

He shook his head, more in general disbelief than at your statement. You dressed in the clothes he gave you, the fabric soft against your skin. The sweatpants fit, more or less, but the shirt was enormous, hanging well below your waist.

“Want to lay down?” he offered. 

Although it was still early, you felt like you could sleep for a week. You nodded and took his outstretched hand. He led you back up through the maze and to the office you were situated at. You carefully sat down on the small cot and sighed. You laid down and shifted the pillow. Spencer stood, looking at you for some time. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Come on,” you beckoned, patting the space beside you.

He seemed to shake his head as if he were daydreaming, and nodded. He slipped off his shoes and sat down on the cot. He had been dressed for the weekend, but was still wearing a dress shirt and dress pants. He undressed to his boxers and undershirt and laid down behind you. 

He was hesitant to lay his arm across your body. You had lain with your injured side up. You pulled his arm to wrap it around you, higher on your chest. He was tense at first, but relaxed when you kissed his hand.

“Are you going to sleep?” you asked, feeling yourself starting to drift off, despite your trepidations of insomnia.

“Don’t worry about me,” he whispered, kissing the back of your neck.

You were going to argue that you always worried about him, but you found your lips too heavy and your will to stay awake too weak. You fell asleep like a rock falling into a lake.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the continuing support!

Your body must have insisted that your brain relax for the night, because you slept without dreaming the entire night. You woke early since you’d fallen asleep early, and felt Spencer still wrapped around you. Your side ached horribly, the muscles around your wound were sore, and you could feel your skin was bruised. 

You got up slowly, gently laying Spencer’s arm on the bed after unwrapping yourself from his hold. He sniffled and shifted, but stayed asleep. You went down the hall to the bathroom, and when you were done, you stopped to look at yourself in the mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Your hair was a mess, you looked pale, and your eyes looked weighed down.

You splashed some water on your face and patted it dry, feeling more awake afterwards. You padded back to the office and found Spencer anxiously looking around the room, having apparently just woken up. You wondered, even though he had seemed fast asleep, if somehow his body had warned him you had left and you might be in danger, and woken him up.

“There you are,” he breathed, clearly relieved. He stood and rested his hands on your arms.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Had to pee and didn’t want to wake you.”

He sighed and pulled you gently toward him to hug you.

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “I just…”

“I know,” you said.

He pulled away from you and looked at his clothes on the floor. He picked them up and put them on.

“Hungry?” he asked.

You nodded, feeling your body ache for nourishment. He led you into the closest break room and did his best to create a balanced breakfast out of what was left in the fridges and vending machines. It was enough to fill you up and distract you from his constant gaze.

Spencer’s phone chirped, and he read a text from Hotch, telling you he was ready to leave for the hospital when you were, and that there hadn’t been any developments on any of the team’s fronts. 

You, Hotch, and Spencer piled into one of the many SUV’s outside, and Hotch drove to the hospital. Waiting when you got there, was the rest of the team. They greeted you, all of them nervous and excited to see Morgan. You followed them down the hallways leading to the wing that Morgan was staying in. You felt a pull in your gut, something on the verge of guilt. You hadn’t shot him, but it felt like you were responsible for his predicament.

You walked hesitantly into the room. Spencer slipped his hand into yours, and you wondered if he had some kind of sixth sense for telling when you needed him most. 

Morgan looked so small in the bed. His skin looked somehow desaturated, as if someone had taken away the vibrancy. He smiled weakly as you entered, watching the team pile into the small room. There were a few sets of flowers, but for the most part, the room seemed sterile. You’d never liked hospitals, and the creeping feeling in your stomach didn’t help that.

“Wow, what a turn out. Just for little old me?” Morgan asked, his tone light. 

How he was joking at a time like this was beyond you, and yet it only made you love him more.

“Yeah, well, there was nothing on TV,” JJ smirked, the first to walk over and give him a half hug. 

“Hey now,” Morgan pretended to be offended.

“Don’t listen to her. There was plenty on TV, the cable was just out,” Rossi winked, stepping towards him. You thought he would go for a pat on the shoulder or a handshake, but he leaned in too, hugging Morgan as best he could.

“Make room for Mama!” Garcia said, moving the team members aside to make her way over. 

“Oh, give me some sugar,” Morgan said, his arms stretching as far as he could without wincing.

“Always, baby,” she said, her voice tight. She seemed to be crying.

“I’m fine,” he promised her softly. 

“I know,” she said, sniffling. “But you almost weren’t.”

“You think a little bullet was going to take down Derek Morgan?” he asked her.

She laughed and wiped her tears away, shaking her head and stepping aside.

“And Prentiss,” he smiled.

“I came to protect all the nurses from your charms,” Prentiss chided, stepping in to hug him and kiss his cheek.

“I’m not sure if we should be protecting the nurses or Morgan,” Hotch said, surprisingly lightly.

He too hugged Morgan, and then stepped aside. Spencer’s hand left yours to step forward. He leaned down to embrace Morgan as well, and you marveled at how family-like and how comfortable these people were with each other.

“How much Jell-O do you think I could get in this place?” he asked Spencer.

“I’d say a solid pound a day if you try hard enough,” he answered. You could tell he was attempting to match Morgan’s light tone, but he wasn’t as convincing.

You wrung your hands together and found it incredibly difficult to look at Morgan as Spencer backed away. 

“Hey, pretty lady,” you heard his voice directed at you. 

You made yourself look up at him. He was curling his finger, indicating for you to come closer to him. You shuffled forward, feeling like an elementary school teacher was calling you out in front of the class.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked. 

Your gaze slid along his body. Although he was covered with a gown and the bed sheets, you knew that the damage lay under there. You knew that the bullet had gone through him, ripping him apart and it was because of you.

“I’m not hiding,” you lied.

He gave you a look. You could feel the eyes of the team on you as you stood there.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said softly.

“I know,” you replied.

“Do you?” he asked.

You shrugged. You knew that technically it wasn’t you who had shot him, but it was you who had brought him to the spot where he was targeted. 

“Did anyone tell you who James Romanski is?” Morgan asked. You shook your head. Hotch had given you two facts, but that was all. “He was a pimp from back in my hood,” he explained. “When I was a cop in Chicago, there was this one main prostitution ring. James was in charge. And my cousin was his favorite,” his jaw clenched at the memory. “When I got her out of there and set out for his arrest, he swore he’d make me rue the day. I thought I was fine once he was behind bars, but he got out.”

You swallowed, your mind fast forwarding to the events that led him to this bed.

“I was worried he would track me down, but I didn’t know he would already be in town and have a gun,” he explained. “I wouldn’t have put you in danger if I’d known he was already onto me.”

You looked into Morgan’s eyes there and saw your own guilt reflected in his eyes.

“I’m the reason you were out there,” you said, feeling your throat choking up. “It was my fault you were there, that he was able to get to you.”

Morgan shook his head. 

“He would have found me one way or the other. I was lucky I was with you. You saved my life.”

You shook your head and sighed. 

“I just tried to stop the bleeding,” you muttered. He shook his head.

“You pushed me,” he said, his tone serious, so different from the Morgan of moments ago.

“What?” you asked.

“You pushed me out of the way,” he said. “I remember.”

You thought back and realized he was right. You’d seen the gun and pushed him to try to save him. It wasn’t enough, but you’d tried.

“Apparently not hard enough,” you said.

He laughed and shook his head again, his eyes glistening with unspilled tears.

“The doc said an inch or two the other way and I would have bled out for sure,” he said. 

You couldn’t know if you’d pushed him the exact amount he needed to survive. Perhaps you could have done nothing and the bullet still would have hit a less damaging area. Still, you could see that Morgan was crediting you with saving his life, and you felt undeserving.

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” you managed to say without your voice cracking.

“Me too,” he smiled, the charisma coming back to his features. “Come here,” he ordered gently.

You managed to move your arms up and your body forwards to wrap your arms around him. He took a deep breath and hugged you for a moment longer than he had anyone else.

“Thank you,” he whispered, so only you could hear.

You nodded and pressed your lips to his cheek before pulling away. Now he didn’t look so small in that bed. Now it didn’t seem so intimidating.

“So how do we catch this bastard?” Garcia asked. 

You left Morgan’s embrace to turn around to glance at her. You hadn’t heard her use such language before, but she seemed to truly mean it. You marveled at her protectiveness over Morgan and briefly wondered if there wasn’t something more than friendship there.

“We trap him,” Hotch said evenly.

Morgan shook his head.

“He’s smart, he’ll know it’s a trap. The only reason we caught him last time was because of my cousin,” he said gravely.

“And your cousin is safe?” Hotch confirmed.

“Yeah, she’s been living out of the country for a long time,” Morgan confirmed.

“Good,” Hotch nodded. “So how do we make a trap that doesn’t look like a trap?” he asked the team.

You stood awkwardly by Morgan’s bedside, nervously kneading the sheets with one of your hands. The team all had their heads bowed in concentration, staring off into the distance as the silence swelled.

“We could put out a press release,” JJ offered, her voice tentative. “We could say that we have a witness saying Romanski has fled the state, and that we’re focusing our search somewhere else?”

“That may relax him, but it’s not going to be enough to make him go after Morgan again,” Rossi countered. “Which, I assume, is what we all know the trap is going to have to be?” He looked around for confirmation, seeing everyone’s heads nod including Morgan.

“That seems risky, especially considering his condition, doesn’t it?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You forget that I’m indestructible, baby,” Morgan winked half-heartedly at you.

You rolled your eyes, and were about to add something, but Garcia beat you to it.

“You may look like you’re carved from marble, but you’re flesh and blood,” she said with a grim smile.

“We’ll make sure the area is covered with snipers,” Hotch assured her. “We just need to get him to an isolated area where civilians aren’t likely to be in the crossfire.”

“And we need to lead him there somehow,” Spencer added. You could tell his mind was racing, trying to come up with a solution.

“Even if we do send me out in the middle of nowhere, just the fact that that’s happening will scream trap to him,” Morgan shook his head.

Again there was silence as the team tried to think of a way to make this work. They had to get Morgan out in the open in a place where snipers could sit on roofs and there wasn’t a ton of traffic. But somehow, he couldn’t be alone, or Romanski would smell the trap.

Your lips moved and conveyed the idea before you could approve, but after it was out, you knew it was the only way.

“What if I went with him?” you asked. All eyes in the room turned to you. Spencer moved towards you, but you held up a hand. No doubt he knew where you were going with this and wanted to stop you. “He must know I’m not police,” you noted. “And if I’m with Morgan, he’s not going to assume that I’d be in on an FBI trap.”

“There’s a reason for that. It’s because it’s too dangerous,” Spencer said, his eyes filled with terror.

He looked around for support from the team, but they weren’t looking at him, they were focused on you, waiting for you to continue. You searched your brain trying to come up with a plan that would fit their priorities.

“What if we released some kind of statement about how we didn’t get to get that cake last time, so he’s going back to get it on a certain day,” you asked JJ. “We could make it sound like some kind of bravado, nonchalance about how he still wants his cake despite a pesky bullet or something?”

“That does sound like something I would say,” Morgan gave you a soft smile of encouragement.

“The bakery doesn’t have a high level of traffic, and we could find some inconspicuous reason to close down the street for a couple hours. There are rooftops the snipers could sit up on from all around that you wouldn’t see from the streets,” you continued. “And if I went with him, Romanski wouldn’t think that it was a set up. I could wear a vest, Morgan could wear a vest, and you guys would take care of the rest.”

You breathed finally once all of your ideas were out and looked around at the team. They finally stopped staring at you to check in with each other. Only Spencer was still staring at you in horror, seemingly frozen and unable to speak. Hotch nodded to Rossi and then turned to you.

“You’re willing to do this?” he confirmed.

“Yes,” you answered.

“She’s a civilian!” Spencer exclaimed, moving to place himself between you and the team. “She can’t be part of this.”

“It’s not ideal,” Hotch conceded. “But it seems like our only option. And if she’s willing…”

“I am,” you said, poking your head around Spencer’s shoulder to meet Hotch’s gaze.

“She was almost shot once, I am not--”

“Spencer,” you interrupted, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stopped and turned around, panic terrorizing his face. “It’s the only way to catch this guy.”

He shook his head and huffed angrily, forming his lips into a thin line. He glanced at you and then back at the team before storming out of the room and walking down the hall. You were about to go after him, but JJ stepped up first.   
“I’ll talk to him,” she offered. 

You let her go and turned to the team.

“You’ll have to wear baggy clothing, something to hide the vest so it’s not obvious,” Hotch told the two of you. You both nodded. “How long do you think you need to recover?” he asked Morgan.

“A few days tops,” he said. “I just need to make sure I can draw a gun without ripping my stomach open.”

You flinched, but no one noticed.

“Good,” Hotch said evenly. 

“Rossi, Prentiss, Garcia, go coordinate with the local PD and FBI snipers, I’ll stay here with Morgan and (Y/N), go over the plan, and confer with you and JJ and Spencer once we have a definite strategy.”

They nodded and Garcia quickly kissed Morgan’s forehead before dragging herself away to follow Rossi and Prentiss outside.

You sighed once they had left, feeling the pressure upon you, as well as Spencer’s anxiety.

“Hey, you’re really brave, you know that?” Morgan asked, reaching out his hand to cover yours. You took his hand and squeezed it.

“I kind of like you alive, so I want to do whatever it takes to keep it that way,” you tried to smile.

“Still,” he said. “I owe you a lot.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you frowned. “He’s still out there for now.”

“But he won’t be for long. This is a good plan,” Hotch assured you. 

“Do you think Spencer’s mad at me?” you asked sheepishly.

“No,” Morgan said. “He’s just scared.”

“I have to do this,” you said, more to yourself than to them.

“You don’t, though. If you don’t want to, we can find another way,” Hotch said, searching your face for any sign of doubt.

“No, I have to,” you repeated.

Just then, Spencer returned with JJ and walked slowly into the room. His eyes didn’t meet yours, and when he spoke, his voice was so soft you barely heard it.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, barely glancing up at you.

You nodded and followed him outside of Morgan’s room, walking down just a little ways to sit in a pair of chairs that sat against the hallway.

He sat down and wrung his hands together in his lap, staring at them and avoiding your gaze.

“Spence--” you started.

“Ever since I was young, I haven’t had many people that I’ve cared about,” he interrupted you. You looked on as he spoke, hearing the shaking of his voice. “It’s been my mom and me, then the team, and now you. I can count on two hands the number of people I have ever loved in my entire life,” he said, finally meeting your gaze and holding up his ten fingers. “I could lose each  of those nine people, and it would be hard, but I’d  _ survive _ ,” he said, folding all of his fingers down except his right index finger. “I  _ cannot _ lose you,” he said, his voice breaking with the unspoken consequence of what losing you would do to him.

You captured his hand in yours, his finger still held out. You pressed your lips to his middle knuckle and felt the tears roll down your cheek and fall onto his hand.

“You won’t,” you promised. 

“You can’t know that,” he countered, his voice desperate. 

“I seem to remember you making a similar, equally inadequately backed up claim,” you half-smiled.

He took a breath, remembering his promise to always come back to you despite the dangers of his job.

“That’s my job, this is different,” he argued.

“Both are technically voluntary,” you countered. You couldn’t help your wry smile just at the role reversal the universe had dealt you.

Spencer’s lips were in a tight line and shook his head.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said softly, bowing his head. “I don’t think you know what it would  _ do _ to me.”

You tilted his head back up to meet your gaze with your finger.

“I  _ do, _ ” you promised. “Because it’s the same thing that would happen to me.”

He searched your face and found that you were not lying. Finally, his shoulders relaxed as he breathed out. 

“You’re sure you have to do this?” he asked as one last ditch attempt.

You nodded and kissed him softly. He seemed to mold himself into the kiss and when you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against his.

“I’ll always be here with you,” you reminded him. “No matter what.”

He nodded and pulled away, looking tired and defeated. You hated that this was torturing him, but it was necessary to ensure that Morgan would be safe.

“We should get back to Morgan,” you suggested. He nodded and stood, following you numbly back to the room.

Hotch and JJ had pulled up a seat next to Morgan while you were gone, and the three of them glanced up as you walked in with Spencer.

You nodded at them, wordlessly telling them that everything was still good to go.

“We’re getting a map and building specs from the city, and JJ has a rough statement prepared for the press,” Hotch informed you. “For the next few days, you’re going to have to stay at the FBI to ensure your safety and to ready you for the operation,” he added.

You nodded, ready to do just about whatever it took to ensure this guy was caught. Spencer stood listlessly beside you, and you felt guilty for making him go through this.

“I need to be close,” Spencer said suddenly. “When this is happening, I want to be close by.”

“Okay,” Hotch nodded. 

Spencer’s hand found yours and you found strength in it as you listened to the team organize the logistics of your incredibly dangerous plan.


	18. Chapter 18

You’d gotten a total of eight hours of sleep over the past four days while you waited for your plan to initiate. Morgan had recovered enough to walk, even lightly jog if he had to. With any luck, all he would need to do was draw his gun. 

You had slept with Spencer on the tiny mattress at the FBI when you weren’t at the hospital visiting Morgan and going over and over the plan. You were exhausted, and yet somehow your body kept you alert enough to respond to the questions and prompts the team presented you with.

On the day before the plan was to happen, you sat with Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch in Morgan’s hospital room, watching the news that conveyed JJ’s planned statement. A pretty blonde woman finished reporting about the foreign news, and she threw it back to the main anchor. He was an older gentleman with a deep voice. You watched as he said the words you’d already memorized when JJ wrote them.

“In other news, FBI agent Derek Morgan, who was shot five days ago on the streets in Quantico is recovering at a nearby hospital. The suspect, James Romanski,” Romanski’s picture popped up on screen, and you flinched, “Is still at large. Witnesses say they saw him fleeing the state, heading north. All police efforts are now looking out of state for the man they believe to be responsible for the shooting. In a statement given to the press, Agent Morgan said, ‘I was out to buy a cake, and when I get out, I’m going to do that. I’m not going to let a little bullet stop me.’” The anchor seemed to admire the statement, as he gave a little smile at the end of it. “Agent Morgan will be released from the hospital tomorrow, and I think I speak for all of us here at the station when I say, we hope you enjoy that cake. Now, onto…”

Hotch muted the television after the release had finished. You glanced fretfully at the others and did your best to look confident and ready.

“Think he bought it?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Hotch said. “But I don’t think he’d pass up the opportunity for another shot.”

“He’ll be there,” Morgan nodded.

He had improved immensely in the past few days. His color was back to normal, and you didn’t see him flinch as much when he moved. In the small amount of time he’d been here, he had every nurse wrapped around his finger, even the male ones.

You felt Spencer’s arm against yours. While he didn’t always grab your hand or wrap his arm around you, he was in some kind of physical contact whenever it was possible. You felt immensely comforted by this, and wondered if he knew he was doing it, or if he just subconsciously needed to feel you beside him.

“You guys should go back to the BAU, get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to feel like a long day,” Hotch ordered you and Spencer.

You nodded, said your goodbyes, and were escorted back over to your temporary residence. It would take a while before you would miss the beige walls and tiny mattress. 

On the night of, you and Spencer didn’t even bother trying to sleep. You knew you were far too anxious. The plan was to go in the morning, just after everyone had gone to work when the streets would be quietest. If all went to plan, you’d be home within the hour.

You lay on your back, looking up at the popcorn ceiling, nestled closely next to Spencer on the small mattress. 

“When this is over, remind me to hide all of you away in a box where no one can hurt you,” you muttered.

“Garcia already tried that,” Spencer smirked. He wasn’t looking at the ceiling as you were, he was staring at you.

“Well, maybe our combined efforts would be enough,” you added.

“Maybe,” he chuckled softly.

“But maybe part of life is learning to love what you have. If there was no risk of losing it, it wouldn’t mean anything,” you mused.   
Spencer tensed beside you and you turned your attention to him.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you promised, kissing the tip of his nose. He shook his head slightly and sighed.

“Is it too late to help you with that box?” he mumbled. You chuckled.

“Everything will be okay in the end, and if it’s not okay, it’s not the end,” you quoted.

Spencer sighed and turned his attention to the ceiling. You swallowed hard, not knowing how to phrase what you next wanted to say.

“Spence… If something happens tomorrow, though… And it won’t, but if it does… I want you to know…”

“Don’t,” Spencer interrupted you, his voice breaking. You saw a tear slide down his cheek and land on the pillow. “Please,” he begged.

You bit your lip and nodded, feeling your own eyes fill with tears. You said nothing more, and eventually you managed to get a few hours sleep before the alarm went off in the morning to wake you.

Hotch came into the room only minutes after you had gotten dressed. You and Spencer had said only necessary words to each other while you dressed. You felt a hardness in your chest like thick ice, and knew if you spoke to him, it would shatter and leave you unable to stand upright.

Hotch handed you a bulletproof vest which you donned and covered with a roomy sweatshirt. You let your feet steer you as you followed Hotch down to the street. You were going to drive Morgan to the bakery so as not to arouse any suspicion or association with the FBI. Your hands shook as Hotch handed you the keys. 

“We’ll be all around you,” he promised, laying a father-like hand on your shoulder. “Remember, you drive there, we’ll follow. Wait a few minutes to let us catch up and set up before going into the bakery.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Hotch turned to Spencer and nodded before leaving you. Morgan got into the passenger seat, leaving you and Spencer by the door.

“See you soon,” was all you could think to say. Anything else, anything meaningful would shatter you.

He bit his lip and nodded. You thought he was just going to walk away, but he cupped your face and kissed you desperately. You pulled away before you could let yourself feel too much, before this risk became unnecessary. 

Pulling away, you only allowed yourself a glimpse of his face before getting in the car and starting it. He ran to join Hotch in the car behind you and you took a minute, staring at the steering wheel, to breathe.

“You can still back out,” Morgan assured you quietly from the passenger’s seat.

“Let’s go,” you ignored him, putting the car in drive and pulling out into traffic.

You rode in silence. The vest trapped heat against your body and was multiplied by the sweatshirt masking it, making you sweat. Morgan donned a similar outfit, but seemed unphased by the heat.

You parked the car in the lot across from the bakery, just as you had the last time you were here. You felt your veins turn icy and you begged your heart to calm down and let you hear something other than your own blood rushing in your ears.

“Now we wait,” you smiled grimly at Morgan. You had to come separately from the FBI vehicles so as not to arouse suspicion. You waited for what seemed like hours until Morgan got the  _ go ahead _ text.

You stepped out of the car and waited for Morgan to do the same. Together you walked slowly. You were told not to look around, not to act like you were expecting him. If you acted as if you thought he might be there, he could still sense it was a trap and run. You kept your gaze fixed on the bakery, essentially putting your life in the hands of invisible men on the tops of the roofs around you. You stepped off the sidewalk and glanced at Morgan. His jaw was set and he was trying to control his breathing.

You could feel eyes on you, and not just those of the police and snipers around you. You could sense something, the same thing you’d felt the last time you here. You took a deep breath and tried to stay focused on seeming casual.

“Do you think we’ll get a discount on the cake?” you heard yourself ask. It was all you could think to say that wouldn’t sound like something someone in an FBI setup would say. To your surprise, Morgan grinned.

“I think we might actually owe that baker for all those towels,” he answered.

For a moment, you forgot why you were there. For a moment, you were just two friends picking up a birthday cake. Only for a moment.

And then, the hair on your neck stood up on end at the same moment Morgan instinctively turned his head. It was as if you were in some twisted time loop. Everything seemed to happen as it had the first time. You turned, saw James with his hand on a gun, and screamed at Morgan. Then, it changed. Morgan drew his gun quickly, and you saw four red dots appear on James’ chest.

“Freeze, Romanski,” Morgan shouted, gun pointed directly at the man’s head.

James snarled and took the gun out of the waistband of his pants. He held it down, not aiming it yet.

“I said stop man, look at your chest. You raise that gun and you are dead,” Morgan shouted. 

You saw Morgan step between you and James, protecting you with his own body. You watched from behind his shoulder as James’ features portrayed what you could only label as pure hatred.

“Is this one shot worth your life?” he asked. 

James kept walking forward, seeming not to have heard him. He was less than a hundred feet away now. Then, he stopped. You glanced quickly at Morgan whose eyes did not falter from his sight on James. You could hear his breathing, steady and loud. You felt your own heart pounding and felt breathe come and leave your lungs at its own will. Time slowed as James looked at his gun, back at Morgan, and smiled with eyes the size of saucers.

He didn’t have a chance to raise the gun more than an inch before the snipers got him. Morgan lowered his gun and turned to you, covering you with his body as he wrapped his arms around you. When you heard the shots stop, after your ears stopped ringing, you realized they had not given him any time to put you in any danger. The snipers had gotten James before he’d even had the chance to really aim. You glanced over and saw only red before swiftly turning your vision elsewhere.

Morgan’s arms were still around you and he ushered you to the sidewalk. Trembling, you realized different arms were now around you, and looked up to see Spencer smiling down at you as he crushed you hard against him.

He released you just enough to pepper your forehead with kisses and you found yourself laughing in relief. It had all happened so quickly. All this build up, and now it was over at last.

When Spencer allowed you to leave his arms in order to hug the rest of the team, you nearly fell into each of their arms.

When you got to Morgan, he pulled you a little away from everyone to whisper in your ear.

“We should celebrate, don’t you think?” he asked, sounding strangely cryptic. 

“I think you should probably get back to the hospital and recuperate,” you noted.

“You were the one who wanted a surprise,” Morgan said, his gaze flickering over to Spencer.

When you caught what he meant, that you should throw a surprise party today, you nearly jumped with joy. After everything that had happened, it might be exactly what everyone needed, especially Spencer. You felt a renewed energy burst open inside you.

“Keep him at the office just a little later than everyone else,” you instructed. “I’ll go home and decorate. We don’t have time for a cake, but I’ll figure something out.”

“It’s plan,” Morgan smiled. 

Spencer walked over, interested to see what the two of you were talking about, and Morgan quickly turned to him.

“Come on, kid, drive me back to base,” Morgan instructed, wrapping his arm around Spencer’s shoulder and dragging him away before he could ask any questions. Spencer looked back at you longingly, but you told him you’d meet him at home.

You found the rest of the team huddled around one of their other cars. You took off your sweatshirt and handed them their vest back. It felt good to be out of the thing and feel the fear and anxiety go with it.

You told them the plan, and they hastily agreed, knowing that something light and happy was in order after all of this. They promised to do their paperwork as quickly as possible and meet you at your place.

You went back to your car and drove home, rushing inside to start whipping out all the decorations you and Morgan had picked out what seemed like forever ago now. You blew up all the balloons, hung the streamers and signs, readied the cake hat, and managed to whip up some cookie dough out of the ingredients in your apartment. You settled on a cookie cake, and made sure you got the candles out so you wouldn’t forget them.

You were moving at lightning speed to get all of this done in time for the team to arrive. With two minutes left on the timer for the cookie cake, you texted Morgan that everything was ready. You sat down, winded from not only the impromptu party preparation, but the morning you’d had, which now felt like it had happened years ago.

Once the cake was out, you were ready. Before you could get too comfortable, the team arrived. They knew that Morgan and Spencer were pretty much right behind them, and you ushered them all in to hide behind the couch. You waited patiently as you listened to the coming footsteps and felt your heart swell with happiness. You deserved this, you all deserved this. After all the fear and near death experiences, you needed it.

The doorknob turned and you watch Morgan walk in first. Spencer followed him, his eyes on you before anything else in the room.

“Hey, what’s all--”

“Surprise!” you and the team cheered before Spencer could finish his sentence. 

Spencer’s face went wide as he took in not only the people who had fooled him, but all the decorations. His mouth then broke into a smile and he laughed, walking in to hug you while he still gaped at all the decorations.

The team laughed and made their way over to the two of you, all hovering around Spencer and jesting at how they’d outsmarted the genius.

Morgan grabbed the giant cake hat and placed it on Spencer’s head, much to the the team’s delight, and to Spencer’s chagrin. You managed to wiggle out of Spencer’s arms enough to make your way over to where your cookie cake lay.

“We had a little trouble getting the cake,” you smirked. “But I thought this might do for the time being.”

“That’s my bad,” Morgan jested, and Spencer threw him a wry smile.

“Candles?” Rossi asked. 

You pointed to the counter and he grabbed them, putting on all that were in the package. The cookie was soft enough to allow the candles to stand, and you quickly lighted them.

“Make a wish,” JJ prompted.

“Actually, it’s really interesting, candles were originally used to protect the birthday celebrant from demons for the coming year. As a matter of fact, down to the fourth century, Christianity rejected the birthday celebration as a Pagan ritual,” Spencer smiled proudly at his fact.

The team laughed and shook their heads as you kissed his cheek.

“Just make a wish, Birthday Genius,” Morgan laughed.

Spencer stared at the candles for a moment, glanced at you, and then blew them all out.

The team clapped, and you grabbed utensils and some plates as you offered everyone a piece of cake. There was silence as you all tasted it. You’d done a good job for being in a pinch. As the quiet settled, you all seemed to reflect on the events of the morning.

You were taking a sip of water when Morgan raised his glass.

“I think we all deserve a toast. To (Y/N) for saving my life, and making sure Pretty Boy here doesn’t become a crazy cat person,” he winked at you. “To Spencer, for being born and sticking around to help us catch bad guys, and to the team for having my back and making me feel safe, always.”

You couldn’t help the emotional swell in your chest as you lifted your glass.

“And to you, for being there for all of us when we need it,” you added. The team murmured their agreement and took a sip.

After the cake, you put on some music and all of you just hung out. After about an hour, you could tell everyone was ready to crash. This had been a great idea, and you were glad to have had them over, but the lack of sleep was wearing on everyone, and soon enough the team was thanking you and heading out. 

When you and Spencer were finally alone, you followed him into the bedroom. He collapsed onto the mattress with a satisfied smile.

You were about to lay down when you saw your present for Spencer lying in the closet.

“Oh!” you gasped, rushing to it.

Spencer whipped around to see what you were exclaiming about, afraid something was wrong, but looked confused when you smiled.

“I almost forgot your present,” you said. “One of them, anyway. The other can wait.”

You walked over to him and presented him with the bag.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it,” you said with a sly smile. 

“I told you, you didn’t have to--”

“Open it,” you rolled your eyes.

He gave a tight-lipped smile and sighed, opening the bag. He pulled the present out and examined it. 

You had gotten him a multiple picture frame. There were five large frames, all connected to each other. On the top, it said, “Our Story.”

“When I said I wanted to celebrate all of your birthdays with you, I meant it,” you said. “And every year I want us to take a picture on your birthday and put it in this frame. This will help us tell our story,” you explained. Spencer’s eyes were trained on the frame. “Of course, we might want to wait a few days to take this year’s,” you observed.

When he didn’t speak for a minute, you started to worry. Was this a bad present? Had he been expecting something different?

“Is it… okay?” you asked hesitantly.

He slowly raised his gaze to you, laying the frame beside him on the bed. He cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him, kissing you gently.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you smiled when you parted.

“This is… this is the best gift I’ve ever received,” he nearly whispered. You grinned. “Our story,” he said, running his fingers over the words on the frame.

You nodded, feeling your eyelids growing heavy. You blinked, trying to stay awake, and heard Spencer chuckle.

“Bed time,” he ordered softly, placing the frame on the bedside table. While it was still early afternoon, you knew you’d have no problem sleeping until morning.

You nodded and slipped down under the covers. He pressed himself against you and kissed your neck.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispered. “I love you.”

You would have answered had your body not insisted you drop off to a coma-like sleep, but you felt him holding you all night long, and knew the story you would tell would be one for the books.


	19. Chapter 19

Within the week, you were able to gather the team for the first photo of your picture frame. Although it wasn’t on the day of Spencer’s birth, the fact that the picture was delayed because of an important event almost made it more special. You set the timer, posed, and were ecstatic at the results. None of you wanted a boring, static, smiling picture of all of you, so you had just gone crazy at the last minute. 

Hotch’s expression looked like he was gasping, and he also held finger bunny ears up behind Spencer’s head. Prentiss was kissing Garcia on the cheek who in turn was reaching for Morgan’s abs. Morgan twisted his face into a hilarious expression with his tongue out and his eyes crossed, pointing at Spencer. JJ and Rossi were pretending to be argue, their hands in the air and their eyebrows furrowed, but their smiles were impossible to miss.

All in all, it was the perfect first photo for the beginning of your life with Spencer. As you placed the frame on the living room mantel for everyone to see as they walked in, you smiled. While it might have seemed strange to see a frame with multiple places for photos filled with only one picture, to you it seemed like the best thing in the world. The years yet to come, the birthdays left to celebrate represented all the things you wanted.

One morning, before he left for work, Spencer found you staring at the picture as you drank your morning tea. He wrapped himself around you from behind and sighed.

“Not sure how we’re going to top that next year,” he murmured in your ear.

“Challenge accepted,” you smiled, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

“I gotta go,” he whispered.

You groaned and turned around.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he kissed your forehead.

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone this time?” you asked, trying not to whine.

“No,” he frowned.

“Just come--”

“Back,” he finished for you. “Always,” he said.

You sighed and kissed him, not moving from your spot by the mantel as he closed the door behind him. Turning back to the picture, you tried to imagine the years ahead and what the pictures might look like. Your stomach flipped as you wondered, especially after recent events, if one or more of these lovely people would disappear from the frame one day, never to appear in the following year’s pictures.

Shaking your head from the nasty thought, you left the living room in favor of washing out your tea mug once you had finished.

You got a text about an hour later. It was Morgan. He had taken some leave in order to recuperate and get his body back to field-ready shape. He wanted to know if you wanted to go out and poke around some shops today. You readily agreed, glad to have one of the team to hang out with while the rest were out saving lives.

Morgan came over in the early afternoon and the two of you went out to have lunch. You’d hung out with Morgan before of course, but after everything that had happened with James, you seemed more connected, you felt closer to him.

You had a great time just walking around the strip mall and poking around the stores. You could tell he was doing a lot better. He didn’t wince when he had to reach up for something on a high shelf, and you saw that he walked a lot easier than he had before. Of course you were glad he was recovering, but another part of you realized how much you enjoyed spending time with someone while Spencer was away.

While you were in a bookstore, you got a text from Garcia.

_ Emergency girl’s night when the team gets back. _

You furrowed your brow, wondering why it was an emergency.

“Everything okay?” Morgan asked, a book on an overview of different religions in his hands.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Garcia called for an emergency girl’s night soon.”

“Am I to assume I am not invited then?” Morgan smirked.

“I’m not sure, she might make an exception for you,” you laughed. “Any idea what it’s about?”

He shook his head.

“I haven’t talked to her today. She’s usually so busy helping the team. I’ll have to call her later.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said.

You perused the store for a while longer, finding a good pick for Spencer for a small surprise before you left. The rest of the day was still fun, but you wondered what Garcia had meant. You’d sent her a text asking what was wrong, but all she would say was that she needed to talk to her girls and wouldn’t give you any hint in the text as to what about.

The team was away for four more days after that. While you and Morgan didn’t hang out every day, you did have dinner and watched a movie two of the nights. You were sad to know that he would be back at work soon, leaving you to your loneliness when Spencer left every time. Although you knew you’d never leave Spencer, the knowledge that you’d be dealing with this type of long distance was something that made you shiver.

As promised, Garcia texted you the day the team was planned to return for a girl’s night. JJ couldn’t make it, but you and Prentiss were game, and Garcia seemed relieved. 

When Spencer got home in the afternoon, after launching yourself onto him and peppering him with kisses, you told him of your plan for the girl’s night at Garcia’s. He was a little disappointed that he couldn’t spend time with you immediately that night, but he understood. He had sensed something was off with her lately and thought it was a good idea that you go and figure out what was wrong and try to help.

You presented him with the book you’d found on chess strategies at the bookstore, and he was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t read it before. Knowing it would only take him about an hour despite the thickness of the book, you gave it over happily.

Since you were going away for the evening, he texted Rossi after he’d read the book, and challenged him to a game of chess at your apartment. Rossi accepted and arrived before Prentiss with a bottle of fine wine and bright, but tired smile.

“Hello, my dear,” he said, kissing your cheek as he greeted you.

“Hi, Rossi,” you smiled, letting him into the apartment.

“Are you joining in this chess tournament?” he asked, heading over to grab himself a wine glass.

“No, I’m headed to Garcia’s for a girl’s night,” you explained.

“Ah,” Rossi said, not sounding surprised. “Well, that’ll be fun.”

“We’ll see,” you shrugged. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, we thought so. She wouldn’t say anything though,” he admitted.

“Hopefully nothing a little liquor can’t fix,” you chided.

“I’ve found few things that it can’t,” Rossi joked.

Spencer made his way out from the bedroom where he’d been when Rossi arrived. 

“When is Prentiss coming to pick you up?” Spencer asked, walking over to you.

He kissed your cheek and you blushed, for some reason feeling embarrassed at the slight display of affection in front of Rossi. Rossi looked on, seemingly amused and content with Spencer’s tenderness.

“She’s coming soon,” you said. 

“Are you going to need the rest of my wine?” Rossi offered with a smile.

You walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“We’re covered,” you smirked.

Rossi laughed as if he were proud of you and nodded.

“Good choice,” he nodded, taking a sip of his wine.

Spencer broke out the chess set and sat down with Rossi at the table as you heard Prentiss knock on the door.

You opened the door and let her in. She was wearing jeans and a black t shirt, carrying a large container of double chocolate cookies.

She stepped in and waved at Rossi and Spencer.

“Long time no see,” she smiled.

“Let me just grab my stuff,” you offered. 

You grabbed the whiskey and your bag, gave the boys each a peck on the cheek, and walked back over to Prentiss.

“Ready,” you announced.

“Have fun,” Rossi waved.

“Are you coming back tonight?” Spencer asked, his voice surprisingly worried.

Prentiss looked at the bottle and then back to you.

“Not if we finish off this bottle,” she smirked.

You were looking at Spencer, trying to read the small amount of desperation in his eyes.

“I can be,” you offered. 

He looked immensely relieved. You felt Rossi and Prentiss look at each other, but you didn’t take your eyes off of Spencer. He tried to recover and gave you an unconvincing smile.

“Just let me know,” he said.

“Okay, will do,” you replied.

“Bye, guys,” Prentiss saluted as she closed the door behind the two of you.

You walked with her down the hallway and took the elevator downstairs.

“You think Reid’s okay?” she asked in the silence of the lift.

“Hmm?” you asked, having been thinking about Spencer’s strange shift of mood. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure he’s fine,” you responded.

“Hotch said he’s having nightmares again,” Prentiss said softly. “He had the room next to Reid’s and could hear him.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. You remembered the night he’d woken you with his dreams, but wouldn’t tell you what they were about.

“Do you think it’s Tobias again?” she asked. You shook your head.

“No,” you answered. 

“Did he talk to you about it?” she asked as you exited the elevator and headed to her car.

“No,” you felt almost ashamed to admit.

Prentiss considered this and seemed a little concerned.

“Well, if he’s going to tell anyone, it’ll be you,” she decided.

You weren’t so sure, and suddenly the sting of his secrecy hit you. Was that why he wanted you to be home tonight? So he didn’t have to go through the nightmares alone?

“I think I’ll try to get back for him tonight,” you decided. “Don’t worry, I’ll take an Uber or something if you want to stay.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” she said. “And I can drive if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I have a feeling Garcia will want someone to stay over.”

“Me too,” Prentiss agreed.

You got into her car and put your stuff in her back seat.

“Any idea what happened?” you asked.

“Not really,” Prentiss shook her head.

You drove in silence over to Garcia’s apartment building. When you arrived at the door, you and Prentiss held up your whiskey and cookies and saw that Garcia’s face was streaked with tears. She somehow managed to smile at your gifts anyway, and you each hugged her as she let you in.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, holding her against you and letting her cry.

“Kevin,” she sniffled in between sobs.

She let go and went to the kitchen to grab some glasses and a plate. You glanced at Prentiss before following Garcia over to the couch. You sat down next to Garcia and poured her a glass.

“What’s happened with Kevin?” Prentiss asked, her voice calm and soothing.

“He’s accepted a job overseas,” she said, regaining some of her control over her voice. “We’ve decided not to try for long distance.”

Her hand shook as she took a sip of the whiskey. You’d thought at first that she might have enjoyed some sweet wine, but she gulped it down like it was an old habit.

“He didn’t even tell me until he got hired,” she added, smiling ironically.

“He just took it without talking to you?” you asked. She nodded.

“What the hell,” Prentiss commiserated.

“And he’s definitely taking the position?” you confirmed.

She nodded, more tears flowing down her cheeks.

“He told me at work the day I texted you,” she said.

“Oh god, Garcia, I’m so sorry,” you said, wrapping an arm around her.

She leaned into you and sniffled again.

“But I have my girls,” she said, almost to herself.

“Every day,” Prentiss agreed with a shy smile.

“Why don’t we break out those cookies, pop in a favorite film, and relax?” you offered.

Garcia nodded and Prentiss passed her the plate of cookies. Garcia grabbed a movie and was about to pop it into the DVD player, when there was a knock at the door.

“JJ?” you asked. Garcia shook her head.

“She’s in New Orleans,” Garcia answered, getting up slowly. She walked over to the door slowly and peered through the peephole. “Oh heavenly Jesus,” she muttered happily before opening the door.

Standing there in an extra tight black shirt and well-fitted jeans, holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates was Derek Morgan.

“Heard my girl was down,” he said, presenting her with the box.

You and Prentiss shared a look and smiled, getting up to walk over to Morgan.

“I know it’s girl’s night, I’m not trying to intrude, just wanted my baby girl to know I was thinking about her,” Morgan smiled smoothly.

Garcia was nearly melting in front of him. She took a step forward and hugged him. 

“I love you, Derek Morgan, you know that?” she said sweetly.

“I know,” he smiled. “I love you too, baby girl.”

“What, no chocolates for the support group?” Prentiss chided, stepping forward to hug Morgan once Garcia had let go.

“Alas, I am not perfect,” he chuckled.

“We’ll let it go this time,” you jested, hugging Morgan in greeting.

“How gracious,” he smiled.

He looked around at your setup of liquor and baked goods in front of the TV and grinned.

“Looks like you’ve got a good healing setup for whatever’s going on, which I assume you will tell me about soon?” he prompted of Garcia.

“Yes, yes, my love, all in good time. Tonight is for estrogen, tomorrow I shall tell all.”

Her tone was much lighter with Morgan than it had been since you’d been here.

“Good,” he said seriously. “Because I’m always here for you.”

“I know,” she blushed and nodded.

“Alright. Goodnight silly girl,” he smiled at her. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“Goodnight,” Prentiss waved.

“You’re probably welcome to join the boys at my place. Maybe you’ll liven up their chess tournament,” you offered.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” he grinned. “Night.”

As he closed the door behind him, Garcia turned to find you and Prentiss staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” you laughed, shaking your head. Prentiss dismissed the question with a laugh as well, and the three of you settled back into your positions on the couch.

You watched your movie with the girls, half watching, half talking through it. It seemed that your mere presence was enough to calm Garcia, although you wondered how much Morgan had to do with that too.

After the movie you talked with the girls, mostly sorting out Garcia’s feelings about Kevin leaving. She was obviously morose that he was so suddenly ending the relationship, that he put his career above her, and she was angry that he hadn’t shared any of the information with her.

You both listened, trying your best to be understanding and to cheer her up. By midnight, you were all starting to tire, the whiskey bottle containing only a sliver of liquid left.

You ordered an Uber to drive you home and Garcia readied the couch for Prentiss. 

“Sorry I can’t stay over,” you apologized.

“It’s okay, my love, I appreciate you coming anyway,” Garcia smiled. 

“I just… I can’t leave Spencer alone right now,” you tried to explain.

“Go take care of Boy Genius,” she nodded, apparently having heard about his recent difficulties and needing no more explanation.

“Will do,” you said. “Take care of yourself.”

“Will do,” she smiled.

“Have a good rest of your night you guys,” you said as you hugged Prentiss and grabbed your stuff.

They walked you down to your Uber and watched you get in. You gave your address and quickly made it home. 

When you walked in the door, Rossi and Morgan were still there despite the late hour. Part of you wondered if Rossi had stayed knowing you’d be back and not wanting Spencer to be alone.

“Hello, boys,” you smiled tiredly as you walked in.

They all had a card stuck to their forehead. Spencer smiled broadly at you as you entered. 

“Long time no see,” you greeted Morgan. He nodded at you. “Who won the chess tournament?”

“Well, that’s up for debate,” Spencer defended himself.

“It was Rossi,” Morgan laughed. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. You chuckled and walked over to Spencer, kissing the top of his head as he sat there brooding over his loss.

“How was girl’s night?” Rossi asked.

“Splendid,” you replied with a grin.

You glanced at Morgan who seemed happy with this response. You didn’t mention anything in case, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to share his quick visit.

“Well, I suppose we should shuffle on home,” Rossi said, glancing at Morgan.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you offered, watching the two of them stand.

“Contrary to my looks, I am not actually as youthful as I once was,” Rossi smirked at you. “And my bed is more and more inviting earlier and earlier in the day.”

“Yeah, I’m going to hit the road too,” Morgan decided. “Thanks for the games, kid,” he smiled at Spencer.

You bid the two agents goodnight and were left alone with Spencer. With only a dim lamp light on in the kitchen, the apartment was largely lit by moonlight. Spencer hadn’t moved from his spot at the kitchen table, and you made your way over to him, taking a seat on his lap and peeling the card from his head, replacing it with a kiss.

“Did you enjoy your evening?” you asked gently. He nodded.

“How’s Garcia?” he asked.

“She’ll be okay, I think,” you decided. “Kevin is accepting a position overseas so they’re splitting up.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “That’s too bad.”

“I know,” you commiserated.

Spencer yawned and blinked slowly.

“Time for bed?” you asked.

He sighed and nodded. You rose from his lap and led him to the bedroom. You got ready for bed and slipped in under the covers, sidling up next to Spencer.

“You’d never accept a job overseas without telling me and break up with me, right?” you asked, half asleep. 

Spencer kissed the back of your neck and chuckled.

“I think it’s highly unlikely,” he murmured.

“Okay, good. Just checking,” you smiled.

“I would never leave you,” he whispered, so quietly so you almost didn’t hear him. He sounded so serious, so vehement.

“Me either,” you agreed, bringing the hand that was wrapped around you up to your lips for a kiss.

When you fell asleep, you didn’t expect to wake up to Spencer’s nightmare. His screams tore through your dreams and you bolted awake to find him sweating and panting beside you, his head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice.

He managed to catch his breath and turned to you slowly.

“I think I witnessed a murder as a child,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the continuing support! here we go with another fav plotline from the show!


	20. Chapter 20

“You think you witnessed a murder as a child,” you repeated slowly, watching his gaze search the distance for answers. 

He ran his hands through his hair before flinging off the sheets and standing up. You remained in the bed, trying to think through the haze of sleepiness.

“Would you care to elaborate?” you asked as he continued to pace and think.

He glanced at you and sighed, keeping in his path from one side of the room to the other.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” he said softly. “I go down into this basement and there’s this boy behind a washing machine.”

You swallowed hard. These were not pleasant dreams, and knowing Spencer’s brain, it would most likely lead to something true.

“He’s been killed… And there’s a man leaning over the body… I hadn’t seen his face until tonight.”

“Who was it?” You asked, leaning forward in bed.

He stopped pacing to look at you.

“My father,” he responded plainly.

“You don’t really think your father killed someone, do you?” you asked.

His gaze fell to the blankets and then the floor.

“I’m not really sure who my father is,” he admitted. 

You bit your lip, trying to understand what was happening here.

“Why didn’t you tell me about these dreams before?” you asked, thinking about the nightmares you and the team had witnessed.

“I didn’t want it to be real,” he said.

You held out your arms to him.

“Come here,” you ordered softly.

He looked hesitant for a moment, as if this might be a trap, but in the end, he let out a deep breath and crawled into bed. You leaned back against your pillows and he laid his head on your chest as you ran your hands through his hair. His arm wrapped around your stomach.

“What are we going to do about it?” you asked.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I don’t think the dreams will stop unless we do something.”

“Do you really want to go down this road though? What if your father is…”

You couldn’t even say it. You’d barely heard of the man’s existence, but you didn’t want Spencer to have to deal with a murderer for a father in addition to an absentee one.

“I think I have to know the truth. For me… And for Riley.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have friends growing up,” you noted.

“I didn’t,” Spencer admitted. “Until tonight, I thought Riley was my imaginary friend. It was only when I saw my father’s face that the memories came back. We were on a little league team together.”

“You played sports?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement.

“My father coached the team, so I was forced,” he admitted.

You ran your hands slowly through his hair and sighed.

“Let’s go into the BAU tomorrow and see what we can dig up,” you offered.

“We?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, unless you have any objections,” you answered.

“No, I don’t,” he sighed. There was a silence before he added, “We’ll probably have to go visit my mother.”

Your heart jerked at the words. While you wanted to meet Spencer’s parents of course, he seemed hesitant that you meet them. His father you could understand, but you already knew about his mother’s condition, so what did he fear?

“I would love to meet your mother,” you told him. “I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

He nodded, his skin smooth against your stomach. “Try to get some more sleep,” you offered.

He nodded again but you weren’t sure if he would actually try to sleep. You had a feeling his mind was racing, trying to retrace his steps to his childhood to figure out everything he could about Riley.

You, however, managed to get a few more hours of rest before his alarm went off in the morning.

You ate breakfast together, although Spencer didn’t eat much. You dressed in near silence. You could tell his mind was racing still, and you wondered if he’d slept any more.

You drove to the bureau and went inside, seeing the walls that you’d stayed in for so many days recently. You hadn’t missed them. But as you walked into the bullpen, the people you saw there brightened everything.

The team was milling around, getting coffee and chatting as they started their morning. When they saw you, they all turned on alert, thinking something must be wrong if you were here.

“Everything okay?” JJ asked, hugging you in greeting.

“Um,” you balked, looking to Spencer for an answer. Her gaze drifted up to him.

“Can we meet in the conference room?” he asked, his voice strained. She nodded, gesturing to the team to do so.

Once everyone had gathered in the room, Spencer stood in front of everyone.

“Some of you may have noticed I’ve been a bit off recently,” he said, wringing his hands together. “I’ve been having these dreams… I thought they were nothing… But I think because of the recent cases involving children, I’ve been remembering things.”

The team listened intently and Spencer continued nervously.

“I believe I may have witnessed the aftermath of the murder of a child,” he said, swallowing hard.

The team was unsurprisingly taken aback and took a moment to recover.

“And you think this because of some dreams you’ve been having?” Morgan asked.

“I looked up the name, Riley Jenkins in addition to Las Vegas, and he was murdered,” Spencer nodded. 

“And you think you know who did it?” Prentiss asked.

He nodded grimly before answering, “My father.”

Hotch’s brows furrowed. 

“How young were you when this happened?” he asked.

“About four,” Spencer answered.

“Memories from that young are often unreliable,” Rossi frowned. 

“I know,” he conceded. “That’s why I am going to ask someone who was older when it happened.”

“Your father?” Morgan asked.

“I was going to start with my mother,” Spencer grimaced. 

“You know she’s not completely reliable either,” Morgan observed.

“I know,” Spencer nodded. “But I’d believe her over my father.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Apparently Spencer didn’t talk much about his parents to anyone.

“Well, we’ll have to talk to both of them,” Hotch said. “And we’ll have to do it quietly. We don’t have an invitation in yet.”

“We could ask,” JJ offered. “I’m not sure they’d object to having assistance on a cold case.”

“The case is definitely still open?” Hotch confirmed.

“Yep,” Garcia chimed in from over her laptop screen. “They originally suspected the family because… Oh no,” she glanced up with a sad expression. “He was found behind his dryer stabbed to death… Signs of sexual abuse,” she cringed.

Spencer flinched, as if this struck some kind of memory nerve.

“Alright,” Hotch said finally. “I can’t allow all of us to go out on this, there are pressing matters here that are not cold cases,” he said. “But if any of you want to take personal time to figure this out, I will let you.”

“I’ll go,” Morgan said. 

“Me too,” Rossi chimed in.

Spencer looked at them appreciatively.

“I’m going too,” you added. “Just for support.”

“Alright,” Hotch nodded grimly.

“I’ll find you flight,” Garcia offered.

“Me and (Y/N) will go grab her a go bag, and we’ll meet you at the airport in an hour?” Spencer asked Rossi and Morgan.

Soon enough, you were on a plane headed to Vegas. Spencer sat nervously beside you, his knee bouncing restlessly. You tangled your hand with his to try to calm him, but it didn’t seem to have an effect.

After exiting the airport into the dry heat of Nevada, you stopped at the hotel. You and Spencer shared a room, while the other two got singles. You reconvened in the hotel lobby.

“Alright, Rossi and I will go to the PD, see what we can dig up from their old files, maybe start a list of names to talk to,” Morgan offered. “You and Spencer can go to Diana’s center and see what she remembers?”

“That sounds like a plan,” Spencer nodded. 

Knowing you were going to be meeting Spencer’s mother for the first time, you wished you’d packed nicer clothes. Still, in comparison to what else was going on, that seemed trivial.

The cab ride wasn’t too far from the hotel to Spencer’s mother’s center. It seemed like a nice enough place, and when you entered the day room, you saw a variety of activities for the patients to occupy their day with.

It felt bittersweet seeing these people here. At least they were being taken care of, but it must be hard to be away from their families at the same time. Spencer seemed at home in this place, and directed the two of you over to a blonde woman in a large pink sweater in the back. She was reading a book and didn’t look up as you approached.

“Did you bring me anything?” she asked without looking up.

Spencer smiled and fished into his pocket for a small hard candy. He presented it to her, and she lowered the book, happily snatching the candy from his hand. She put it in her pocket and then seemed to register that Spencer was not alone.

“Who’s this?” she asked him, seemingly ignoring you.

Spencer pulled up two seats and offered you one.

“This is (Y/N),” he said quietly. “We’re, um… Together,” he blushed.

“Together?” she asked. 

Her tone was hard to decipher. It didn’t sound completely disgusted, perhaps more on the confused and surprised spectrum. She glanced at you, and you felt as though you were under a microscope.

“Yeah, Mom. She’s my girlfriend,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze. 

You got the distinct impression that he had not brought anyone to meet her before. Diana’s gaze was flickering between the two of you.

“You’re with her?” she confirmed.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, holding out your hand.

“I don’t shake hands,” she said, shaking her head. “Germs.”

You smiled, recognizing this trait in Spencer as well, and took your hand back.

“Well, it’s still nice to meet you regardless,” you offered.

“When did this happen?” she asked Spencer.

“Um, about four months ago,” Spencer replied.

“Were you going to hide this from me forever?” she asked with a sly smile.

“No,” he said, not completely with conviction.

She shook her head and sighed almost happily.

“Is this why you’re here?” she asked. “Is she pregnant?”

“What? No,” Spencer laughed.

“She’s got good child bearing hips,” Diana noted, giving your hips a nod.

You chuckled.

“She’s here with me for support,” he said, his tone serious. He wet his lips and considered his next words before speaking. “Mom… Do you remember Riley Jenkins?”

His mother searched her mind for the name.

“Riley Jenkins,” she repeated. “He was your imaginary friend,” she said finally.

“No, he's not someone I made up. He was a real boy who lived in our neighborhood, and somebody killed him. And, I don't know, I think... I think that dad might have had something to do with it,” Spencer said.

“He was real?” Diana asked, scratching her head. She seemed almost dazed by this information.

“Did Dad like to be around children?” Spencer asked hesitantly.

“Children? Yes,” she said. “If it were up to him, you'd have a house full of brothers and sisters.”

“So, you didn't want more kids?” He asked.

“Why mess with perfection?” she winked at him. You chuckled.

“Um, what about other people's children? How was he around them?” he pressed.

“He was good with kids, I guess. He coached your little league team. He was always trying to put you into normal activities. I tried to tell him you're not normal. You were exceptional,” she beamed.

“I certainly think so,” you smiled. Spencer didn’t seemed phased by his mother’s praise, he was focused.

“Let me ask you this, Mom. Did you ever get the feeling, like, on his part, the marriage was… Just for show?”

You flinched. These were very sensitive, awkward questions. You wondered if she would be able to process this, or if you should have somehow led up to them.

“These questions are very strange, Spencer,” she shook her head.

“I know, Mom, but try to remember,” Spencer prompted.

“I can’t,” she said, sounding a little distressed. 

“I was about four, Riley was about six. Did Dad show any special interest in him? Did he ever go to his house?”

She starting shaking her head, her hands grabbing at her hair.

“No, no,” she started saying, her voice strained and becoming increasingly agitated.

“Mom,” Spencer said, reaching out to touch her arm.

She jerked back and shook her head.

“No more questions,” she said, seeming to curl into herself. She no longer made eye contact and instead seemed to rock back and forth a little.

Spencer looked dejectedly at you and you sighed.

“We could try again later?” you suggested to him. He nodded.

“We’ll be back later, okay, Mom?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, and her doctor came over to tap Spencer on the shoulder.

“I think we should give her some time,” the doctor suggested.

You and Spencer rose from your seats and began to walk to the door. He looked guiltily back at her before following you outside and into a cab.

You got into a cab to go to the police station to meet up with Rossi and Morgan. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have met under better circumstances, but it was nice to meet her. I think in more normal times we’d get along,” you offered.

“Yeah?” he asked, distractedly looking out the window.

“Yeah,” you replied. “We both think you’re exceptional,” you smiled softly.

He blinked and looked at you, almost as if he had forgotten where he was. He looked tired, as if the visit had drained him.

“You don’t like to visit her there, do you?” you asked.

He sighed.

“It’s hard,” he said.

It sounded like he wanted to say more, but you pulled up to the department before he could. 

Going inside, you found Morgan and Rossi at a table in a back room with a few boxes of files and evidence.

“What did you guys find out?” Spencer asked by way of greeting.

“Well, we went to talk to Riley’s dad. He didn’t have anything to say to us,” Morgan reported. “He was surprised to hear about you being back though. Said your Dad works nearby.”

“We thought you might want some backup to talk to him,” Rossi said.

“Thanks,” Spencer nodded.

You laced your fingers with his as you took his hand, gently reminding him that he always had you as backup too. His hand gave yours a little squeeze.

“Should we go now?” Morgan asked. Spencer took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he decided.

The four of you piled into a car the police had let you borrow, and made it to Spencer’s father’s offices. The building was tall and impressive, towering above others around it. The lobby was sterile, many of the surfaces metal and chrome. The receptionist, dazed by your friends’ badges, allowed you to go up to his office.

The woman outside of the closed door with the name “William Reid” printed on it, looked up at you expectantly.

“Umm…” Spencer hesitated. Rossi looked at him for a moment before stepping in.

“We’re here to see William Reid,” he said.

“Is he expecting you?” the receptionist asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rossi said, holding out his badge. The woman flinched.

“He’s in a meeting, but I’ll let him know you’re here. Please, go into his office and have a seat,” she said, getting up and rushing down the hall, presumably to a conference room.

Spencer shifted on his feet as Morgan opened the office door. 

“I… have to go to the bathroom,” Spencer said suddenly, releasing your hand and walking swiftly back the way you’d come.

Morgan and Rossi shot worried glances at you, and you hurried down the hall after him.

“Spencer!” you had to raise your voice to reach him as he’d gotten a head start.

He stopped at the end of the hallway where the wall was all windows looking out onto the city. If you were in any other situation, you would have stopped to look at the view. As it were, you were focused on Spencer’s ragged breathing and fidgeting hands.

“Hey, breathe,” you prompted, smoothing your hands down his arms. He took a few deep breaths. “What’s going on?” you asked.

“I didn’t think I’d have this physical of a reaction,” he admitted, holding up a shaking hand.

“When was the last time you saw him?” you asked.

Spencer looked up, remembering.

“Seventeen years ago,” he said.

“Oh my… That’s a long time,” you said.

“For a reason,” he reminded you.

“Why was that?” you asked.

He shook his head, clearly angry. His hands turned to fists and his breathing came hard. You’d never seen this level of distress, even when he had discussed his kidnapping. You cupped his face in your hands gently, and he slowly brought his gaze to yours.

“I’m here with you,” you reminded him. “You can tell me or not tell me whatever you want.”

He nodded, relaxing his hands. You released his face and he turned to look out the window.

“He just… left us,” Spencer said angrily. “He knew my mother was sick, he knew he’d be leaving us alone… And he left.”

“Do you know why?” you asked.

“Because he’s a horrible father?” Spencer guessed cynically.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “But you turned out okay, right? It could have been worse.”

“It doesn’t excuse what he did,” he said.

“I know,” you answered. Then quietly, pressing yourself against his chest you whispered, “Just because you didn’t grow up with the perfect family, doesn’t mean you can’t make your own.”

You looked into his eyes as he turned to you and saw wonderment dawn on his features. The corners of his lips turned up and he swallowed nervously.

“That is a good point,” he said softly. He kissed your forehead and took a deep breath. “We should go back,” he said.

You nodded and took his hand, letting him lead you back to his father’s office. The door with his father’s name was open, and you stepped inside with Spencer, closing the door behind you.

Morgan and Rossi were seated in the two chairs opposite the desk that William sat behind.

“Hello, Dad,” Spencer said, his voice tight.

William, who looked to be around fifty years old, had a very similar frame as Spencer. He was thin, but not sinewy. He too seemed prone to under eye circles, and he looked as though he’d seen better days. He stood when he saw his son, and a questioning glance was thrown your way.

“You don't look like me anymore. You used to. Everybody said so,” William said nervously. 

“They say some people look like their dogs, too,” Spencer nearly spat at him. “It's attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples, also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they've been around their whole life. So, it kind of makes sense that I wouldn't really look like you.”

The venom in his voice surprised you. You hadn’t experienced this kind of hatred from him before. His father shrunk a little at this affront, and his shoulder curved inward.

“Your friends told me why you’re here,” he said, his tone significantly graver.

“You remember Riley Jenkins then?” Spencer asked.

“Of course,” his father answered tiredly.

“I've been having dreams about him for a really long time. But when we worked this child case, it jogged something and the dream changed. I saw his killer and he was you,” Spencer said.

“Interesting dream,” his father mused.

“You don't seem all that surprised,” Morgan noted.

“I stopped being surprised by spencer's mind a long time ago,” William answered, a smile which seemed to be the offspring of pride and nostalgia came upon his features.

“You fit parts of the profile,” Rossi pointed out.

“Are you accusing me of murdering Riley?” William asked, outraged.

“No, Mr. Reid,” Morgan answered calmly. “We just want your cooperation.”

“It was a long time ago,” William said dismissively.

“But it’s still unsolved,” Spencer pointed out. 

William looked anguished. Again his gaze flickered to you.

“Who is this?” he asked. “She doesn’t look familiar from all the TV reports and papers I’ve seen you in.”

It occurred to you that William would only know this if he were deliberately paying attention to his son’s career. This, in a strange way, made him sympathetic to you. At least he was paying some attention, it wasn’t as if he didn’t care at all.

“Listen, are you going to cooperate with our investigation or not?” Spencer deflected.

“What do you need?” William asked cautiously.

“Access to your files, your network,” Spencer answered. William shook his head.

“If you want that, get a warrant,” he said. 

This surprised you. The small victory he had won in your mind with his attention to his son’s digital presence was overshadowed by how suspicious this sounded.

“Fine, we will,” Spencer said angrily. He turned quickly, pulling you out of the office and down the hall before you could say anything. 

Rossi and Morgan quickly followed you, and Spencer was on his phone before you could talk to him.

“Garcia, I need you to do something for me.”

He let go of your hand and walked over to the window where you two had stood before. You watched him, letting Rossi and Morgan catch up with you as the three of you stared at him.

“That was rough,” Morgan said.

“Could have been worse,” Rossi offered.

“I don’t know how to help him,” you realized. “He’s so angry… I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Seventeen years is a long time to go between visits,” Rossi noted.

“A lot of time for that anger to build up,” Morgan added.

You nodded, watching as Spencer anxiously paced and talked on the phone with Garcia.

“What’s the next step?” you asked. “They didn’t seem to help Spencer remember anything.”

“I don’t know,” Morgan sighed. “It’s up to the kid I guess.”

Spencer hung up and made his way over to the three of you.

“What’d Garcia find?” Morgan asked.

“No child porn, doesn’t travel, Googles me, and drives a Hybrid,” Spencer reported.

“So not our guy,” Rossi sighed.

“Why not?” you asked. “I mean, I’m glad, but what does that tell you?”

“The guy we’re looking for is a pedophile. He would undoubtedly have child porn on his computer,” Morgan explained.

“Oh,” you cringed. “Well, that’s good, then, right?”

“It’s good that it’s not Mr. Reid. It’s not good that we still don’t know who killed Riley,” Rossi frowned.

“So what do we do now?” you asked Spencer.

“I need to remember more,” he said, biting his lip.

“You’re not thinking…” Rossi trailed off.

“I think we have to try it,” Spencer said.

“It’s not reliable,” Morgan objected.

It was like you’d somehow missed five minutes of their conversation. 

“What are you talking about?” you finally asked.

“Hypnosis,” Spencer sighed, turning to you. “I’m going to need hypnosis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so obviously small differences from the show, but nothing too crazy! I take the direct dialogue where I can to keep it close to canon thanks to http://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org!


	21. Chapter 21

Your leg bounced nervously as you waited in the reception area of the psychologist you had come to see. Spencer sat next to you, oddly calm, his hand in yours. Perhaps it was the feeling of being on the edge of the truth that relaxed him, but you didn’t like the idea of digging up suppressed memories. The way you saw it, the brain protected itself, and if it thought Spencer couldn’t handle something, or shouldn’t handle something, there was probably a reason. Rossi seemed equally as calm as Spencer, and you wondered how much experience he’d had with this kind of thing. Before you could ask, a woman emerged from the door off the waiting room and walked towards you.

The three of you rose to meet her, and she smiled grimly as she was introduced to all of you. Her name was Dr. Jan Mohikian.

“You can come in my office,” she offered, leading you through to a nicely furnished room. 

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Doctor,” Spencer said, taking one of the four seats opposite her desk where she sat.

“Please, call me Jan. Is there a witness you want me to look at?” she asked, amiably.

Spencer laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, yeah. Me,” He answered sheepishly. “I'm trying to recover memories from my childhood. There was a murder.”

She seemed to consider this for a moment before asking her next question.

“How long ago are we talking about?”

“I was four,” Spencer answered.

“Memories from that age can be difficult to interpret,” she warned him.

“I'm aware of the limitations of hypnotherapy,” he answered, almost defensively. She nodded slowly and continued cautiously.

“Well, then you're aware of suggestion issues. If you've looked into this case, you may have a bias,” she said.

More and more this was sounding like a bad plan to you.

“Are you saying what he remembers under hypnosis may not be real?” you asked.

Her attention turned to you, her expression kind and patient. 

“It's a possibility. Either way, it's a tough sell in court,” she answered.

“We won't be using this for evidentiary purposes. It's really just for me. The suppressed memories are about my father,” Spencer explained.

“I see,” she said, her mind clearly weighing whether or not this would be worth it. “Well, with sensitive memories like that, it helps to have someone in the room that you trust. Is there someone you’d like to be there?” she asked.

Spencer turned immediately to you.

“If she doesn’t mind,” Spencer said.

“I don’t,” you answered quickly. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“Okay, good. We should get started then,” she said.

“I’ll wait outside, kiddo,” Rossi said with an affectionate pat on Spencer’s shoulder.

Spencer nodded and Rossi went back out to the waiting area. Jan motioned for Spencer to lie down on the couch, and offered you an armchair close by. She pulled up another chair to sit in front of Spencer as he took his position on the couch.

After explaining the way the hypnosis would work, that he should squeeze her hand if he was scared or wanted out, she began the process of putting him under. You watched as every muscle in his body relaxed. Your heart was racing, wondering what fresh horrors he would find in the black spaces of his mind.

“Go back to the night you were just telling me about. You're at home, in your room. You can't sleep because your parents are arguing,” she said, her voice smooth and calm.

After a moment, Spencer spoke. For some reason it didn’t sound quite like him, something was different.

“It's dad,” he mumbled, stressed. 

“What about him, Spencer? What is he doing?” she asked, still calmly.

His brow tensed and his hold on Jan’s hand tightened. He shifted on the couch, his breathing heavier.

“I don't want to be here,” he nearly begged.

It took everything you had not to leap forward and push the psychologist away. This was clearly a bad idea, and it was hurting him. You made yourself remain on the chair, not wanting to somehow make it worse.

“Ok. It's ok, Spencer. Take us to where the light is. To the next morning. The sun is coming up. Where are you, Spencer?” she asked.

His features did not relax, and he swallowed hard, twisting his torso back and forth in anguish.

“My mom. She's at the window. She's been crying. She saw him,” Spencer said, his voice growing more and more agitated.

“Who? Your father? Do you talk to her?” Jan asked, her calm voice trembling a little.

“No. No, I wanna… I wanna see…” Spencer barely whispered.

“What is it, Spencer? What are you seeing?” she asked, urgently.

Spencer’s body tensed and his breathing quickened. He wet his lips and made a small sound that felt like it might have been a scream wherever he was in his head.

“That's enough,” you felt yourself say, not being able to take the clear agony Spencer was going through. Jan nodded towards you and returned to Spencer.

“I need you to leave this location now, Spencer,” she said, regaining the authority in her tone.

He didn’t react, and instead started whimpering and thrashing his head.

“I'm going to count backward from five. Five, four, three, two, one, and wake. Reid,” she ordered.

He came to, opening his eyes and gasping for breath. He dropped her hand and you rushed over to smooth the hair back from his forehead and hold him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you repeated over and over. “I’m here,” you promised.

It took a while for his eyes to find yours, but he did. His breathing relaxed as he looked into your eyes and he sat up slowly.

“My father,” Spencer said weakly. “Burning bloody clothes in our back yard.”

Your heart dropped out of your chest. Was this a false memory as she had warned? Part of you hoped so. You hoped this didn’t mean what it might.

Jan got up to let Rossi in, explaining to him what had happened and what Spencer had said. You sat on the couch with him, your arm around his shoulders as he recovered from the experience. He leaned into you gratefully.

“Guess we’d better get your parents to the station for questioning, huh?” Rossi asked with a heavy heart.

Spencer looked up at him and nodded slowly.

Rossi called ahead and by the time you got back from the psychologist’s office, Spencer’s parents were already at the station. Diana had a nurse with her, and Spencer’s father looked on morosely at them.

They were brought to separate interrogation rooms, and Spencer chose to start with his mother. He entered the room alone, leaving you to watch through the one way glass. You stood with Morgan and Rossi, watching your boyfriend handle this alone.

“You watched Dad burn bloody clothes,” Spencer said by way of greeting. Diana didn’t seem phased. 

“You had a dream,” she dismissed him.

“Mom, this was not a dream. This was a memory. It was a memory and I saw you,” he answered, somewhat aggressively. 

“Your mind, ah, such a treasure. Even as a baby you knew about things you weren't supposed to know,” she smiled.

Had this been any other time, you would have marveled at the way she revered Spencer’s mind.

“This is not about me. This is about Riley Jenkins,” Spencer pressed.

“It was always about you,” she said in a knowing tone.

“Please, Mom. Please. Please, just try to remember. Remember Riley,” Spencer urged.

In some ways, it must have felt like talking to a child to him. He had to coax out the answers from her unfocused and distracted mind. Her expression darkened and she looked, really looked, at Spencer.

“Riley? Riley was real. Oh, poor Riley,” She said, her hand covering her mouth.

“Yes, poor Riley. Poor Riley,” Spencer agreed, clearly encouraged. “Did Dad do something to him?”

Diana looked repulsed at the idea.

“Dad? No,” she waved her hand in dismissal.

“Think,” Spencer pleaded. 

“No, no. That's… No, no. Now you're confusing me, Spencer,” she said, her voice growing louder.

“You knew. You knew about Dad, and you didn't do anything,” Spencer accused. 

It was so hard not to rush in there and help him somehow. How you could accomplish that, you knew not. It almost seemed as if he wanted his father to be a villain, that all these years of bitterness and hatred could be validated by something horrible.

“No! You don't know. No! No!” Diana was almost screaming now.

Rossi and Morgan glanced at each other, probably having the same thoughts you were of going in there. But then, Diana calmed suddenly, and her body relaxed. She looked at Spencer with a calmness you had not seen yet.

“It could have been you,” she said gravely.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“It could have been you,” she repeated. “I'd seen him around at your ball games, at the park. You used to play chess there, do you remember? You played with him once.”

“With whom, Mom?” Spencer asked. 

“I didn't know that was his name back then, but I do now. Gary Michaels,” she said, as if the name were a curse.

Spencer motioned for the team behind the glass to start investigating the name. Morgan went to the back of the room to call Garcia.

“It wasn't unusual for you to play with adults. And you'd win, too,” she smiled fondly.

“Did he do something to me?” Spencer asked, nervously. You shifted on your feet, waiting for her answer. 

“Oh, no. God, no. It never got to that point. But when I saw the way he looked at you, I knew what he was. I could just tell. A mother knows,” she said in a tone that convinced you she did, in fact, know.

“So, you told Riley's dad,” Spencer postulated.

Diana sighed and nodded. Her gaze drifted to one of the walls, and she seemed to transport herself back in time.

“Two nights later, Riley’s dad, Lou, called the house,” she said calmly. “He was agitated. He said he needed me to meet him. I did… And then he drove us to Gary Michaels’ house. I sat there. I couldn't move. It was like a dream. That paralysis in the face of something terrible,” she remembered, shivering a little. She stopped there as if lost in that fearful moment. 

“What happened after that?” Spencer asked hesitantly, gently.

She glanced at him as if she’d forgotten he was there and then collected herself.

“At some point, I found myself walking towards the house,” she said. “There was blood everywhere. I couldn’t believe what he had done.”

“Mr. Jenkins murdered Gary Michaels?” Spencer confirmed. 

Diana nodded. 

“It’s what he deserved,” she said coldly. “I was horrified of course, but I was also glad that nothing would happen to you.”

Then, she looked as if she’d forgotten where she was. She furrowed her brow and clenched her jaw. 

“That’s all I remember,” she said finally, defeated. 

“Nothing after that?” Spencer asked.

She stared at the table for a moment before her breathing got heavier. She made her hands into fists and then relaxed them. Spencer put his large hands over her smaller ones.

“It’s okay,” he said before she could get too riled up.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself.

“You did great, Mom,” he assured her.

She smiled faintly at him, seemingly exhausted by the horror of a road trip down memory lane.

“Your father…” she said. “Talk to your father.”

Spencer nodded in grim acknowledgement of the necessity. 

“He’s not the villain you think he is,” she said gently. Spencer’s eyes leapt to hers. She smiled faintly and relaxed against the back of her chair, pulling her hands into her lap.

Spencer left her with the promise to see her again before she left and came into the observation room. Morgan had gotten off the phone with Garcia.

“Did Garcia have anything?” Spencer asked.

“Looks like he was our guy,” Morgan nodded. “Fits the profile to a T.”

“Time for the rest of the story from Mr. Reid?” Rossi asked. 

Spencer nodded and reached for your hand in what seemed to be an unconscious gesture. You took it gratefully in yours walked with him across the hall to the other interrogation room. 

William sat, looking angry and anxious. You went in to watch from the other side of the glass as Spencer faced the man he hadn’t seen for most of his life.

“Mom told me what happened that night,” Spencer said without any introduction.

William didn’t look surprised. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Most of his anxiety seemed to have left when Spencer had entered the room, as if he had been waiting for an ax to fall, and now saw that someone had just cut the string holding it.

“She told me what Lou Jenkins did to Gary Michaels,” Spencer said. “But she can’t remember what happened after she got home.”

William nodded as if he had been expecting this.

“She came home. She couldn't talk at first. But eventually I came to understand what had happened. And I knew that nobody could ever know,” he said gravely. 

“So, you never told anyone?” Spencer asked, a small amount of awe in his voice.

“No, she could have been implicated. And I had to protect her,” William said.

This new, protective, loving side of William was interesting. If it was new to you, it certainly was new to Spencer too, who looked at him as though he were seeing him for the first time.

“You were burning her bloody clothes,” he said, mainly to himself. 

“But the knowing... You can't burn that away. It changes everything,” William shook his head. You wondered how the weight of this had sat upon his shoulders all these years without breaking his back.

“Is that why you left?” Spencer asked, his voice high pitched with emotion. 

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge, it was too much,” William answered, defeated.

“You could have come back,” Spencer replied, almost desperately. “We could have started over.” 

“I didn't know how to take care of you anymore,” William said honestly. “When I lost that confidence, there was no going back. What's done is done. At least now you know the truth.”

“I was wrong about everything... I'm sorry,” Spencer said, his hands clenching and unclenching to keep from crying. 

“I am, too, Spencer,” his father said, leaning forward. 

For a moment, you thought his father might touch him, take his hand, or reach out and pat his shoulder. But nearly two decades between them made them too far apart for that kind of touch. 

Instead, the two men sat in silence, staring at the table.

“What’s going to happen to them?” you asked Morgan quietly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It was a long time ago. They’ll take Mr. Jenkins to court, but they don’t have the evidence anymore, and the only other witness was four at the time. For now, it’s all just a story. And my bet is that it’s going to remain that way.”

In a way, you were glad. There was no need to drag anyone else down into this mess. Mr. Jenkins had lost enough, and Spencer’s parents were good people.

Spencer stood and left the room with a quiet goodbye to his father before joining the three of you.

You opened the door for him and he wrapped himself inside your open arms. Morgan and Rossi waited patiently for Spencer to breathe and ready himself.

“You okay, kid?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, pulling out of your arms, but taking your hand.

“We’ll let the police chief know what we’ve found. They’ll bring Mr. Jenkins in. We know the truth now,” Rossi said. “I think our work here is done.”

Spencer nodded and the two agents left the room. William was still sitting in the interrogation room, his head in his hands. You and Spencer looked at him for a while.

“Would you like to go see your mother again?” you asked.

“I think I’d like a moment to process if that’s okay,” he said.

You felt a sting, thinking he wanted to be alone. It reminded you of the time he’d almost started using again and hadn’t wanted to share his pain with you.

“Oh… okay,” you said, pulling away and heading towards the door.

“No!” he said quickly, pulling you back to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean without you,” he said. 

You breathed a sigh of relief and leaned your head against his chest. As you did so, an officer came to take William out, leaving only the two of you alone. 

“I don’t think I could have handled this without you,” Spencer said, kissing the top of your head.

“I do,” you disagreed. “I didn’t do anything today, you’re the one who dug up the truth and dealt with both of your parents alone.”

“Only because I knew you were here,” Spencer said softly.

You stood there for a moment in silence, just holding each other and breathing, decompressing.

There was a soft knock on the door, and you and Spencer separated as Morgan opened the door, leaning in to notify you that Diana was going to be going back to the center.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Spencer said. 

Morgan nodded and closed the door, not before glancing at you with what looked like appreciation. You wondered how long he’d had to watch Spencer deal with these kinds of things by himself.

When you had readied yourselves, you went out to say goodbye to Spencer’s parents. William was standing with Diana, talking quietly with her. For a moment, while they were standing together, William listening to Diana, you had a glimpse into what the beginning of their marriage must have been like. While her illness and the events surrounding Riley’s death tore his family apart, you could tell that there had been love there once, and it still lingered in small gestures and smiles.

Spencer approached them hesitantly with you in tow, and William’s eyes flickered down to your entwined hands.

“Oh, Spencer, straighten your tie,” his mother fussed, as if you all hadn’t just relived one of the most horrible moments of their lives. 

He chuckled a little at this and allowed her to straighten his tie. William was looking at you, trying to discern something.

“Um, Dad, this is (Y/N),” Spencer said nervously.

You suddenly felt like you were meeting his parents on prom night. You extended your hand to him.

“Sorry we couldn’t meet under nicer circumstances,” you apologized.

“Me too,” he answered grimly. “And you’re Spencer’s…” he waited for you to label yourself.

“Girlfriend,” you answered with a small smile. It never got old telling people that.

“Girlfriend,” he repeated, half surprised, half proud.

“She’s got good hips,” his mother noted again, pointing this out to William.

He humored her by nodding, but turned his attention back to you.

“Listen, I know this is… strange for us… But if you’re ever in town, or if I’m ever on the east coast… Maybe we could…” William trailed off, searching Spencer’s face for validation.

“Sure,” Spencer answered with a small smile. “We’d like that.”

You knew that William’s explanation hadn’t undone the years that Spencer had spent without a father, but it no doubt lessened the blow of the loss and must have put Spencer’s mind at ease about whatever imagined fault he thought had caused his father to leave.

“I’d come visit, but they think I’m crazy,” Diana murmured with a wink at you. “And… they’re mostly right,” she admitted.

Spencer shook his head and hugged his mother.

“I love you,” he said sweetly, kissing her cheek.

“You have crust in your inner eye,” she answered. 

Spencer laughed and wiped his eye.

“But I love you too,” she said.

Her nurse led her away, leaving you with only William left. 

“We should get going,” Spencer said. 

It felt as though it were the end of some weird first date, and you weren’t sure how to end it.

“Well… um… keep in touch,” his father said, holding out his hand.

Spencer stared at it a moment before shaking it and nodding.

“Yeah, will do,” he said, looking into his father’s eyes.

“It was nice to meet you,” you said, holding out your hand.

“It was great to meet you too,” William responded with a kind smile. “Take care of my boy, please,” he said quietly.

“I will,” you promised.

He shared a look with you then that seemed immensely meaningful, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. He turned with a goodbye and walked away, leaving you to wait as Rossi and Morgan came back over.

Rossi laid a hand on Spencer’s shoulder and smiled at him.

“Not the worst ending, eh?” he asked.

Spencer watched as his father walked away and tilted his head a little to the side.

“No, not the worst,” he decided. 

“Let’s go home, kid,” Morgan said. 

Spencer nodded and the four of you booked your flight back to Virginia. You stayed in the hotel for the night, having booked a late morning flight for the way home.

As you undressed and fluffed up the pillows on your and Spencer’s bed, you thought about his parents. A lot had changed in the past few hours regarding their relationship to him and to each other. You had no doubt Spencer’s mind was reeling, going over his past and realizing certain things that had to do with this revelation.

“Do you think you’ll want to come visit your mom again soon?” you asked, once he was done brushing his teeth.

He sighed and flopped onto the bed, his pajamas on, and hair wild.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

You finished fluffing and joined him, lying with him on your back on top of the covers.

“It’s hard for me to see her,” he admitted.

“Will she ever recover?” you asked, not knowing much about the disease.

He shook his head, keeping his gaze on the ceiling.

“No,” he said softly.

So he was just going to watch his mother get worse and worse. This made your heart hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you offered weakly. “That must be hard to watch.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he thought about something.

“It makes me… afraid,” he said. 

“That you’ll lose her?” you asked.

He closed his eyes for a moment and you rolled over to face him. 

“What is it?” you asked, pressing your hand gently against his chest. Beneath, his heart beat steadily.

“I’m afraid that I’ll become like her,” he said so softly you almost missed it.

“Is it genetic?” you asked.

“Most scientists agree genetics are a contributing factor,” Spencer said. “There’s a twelve percent likelihood if one of the parents of the child has it,” he added.

You nodded, not knowing what to say. The percentage wasn’t high, but neither was it particularly comforting.

“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” you said. “But I do know that you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to be scared all alone.”

He turned on his side to face you, searching your face as you continued.

“Even if you heard things that weren’t there, or even if you forgot who I was, I would still love you, I would still be there for you. Always,” you assured him.

He shook his head.

“I wouldn’t want you to be,” he said.

“What? Why?” you asked.

“I wouldn’t want you to have to watch that… I would want you to be happy.”

Your heart melted a little considering what it must have taken for him to say that and mean it. He would rather suffer alone than make you watch something that would hurt you.

“I will never leave you alone, Spencer Reid,” you promised. “Every birthday, remember?”

“Every birthday,” he repeated, sighing and then smiling.

You kissed him softly before you shuffled under the covers with him, leaving all of your fears and the ugliness of his childhood memories behind in favor of sweet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, huge thanks to transcripts.foreverdreaming.org for supplying the transcript! I'm planning a sort of fluff chapter after this and then onto another of my favorite plot lines from the show (with some alteration of course)!
> 
> Thanks again for all the love <3


	22. Chapter 22

Your return to Quantico was uneventful. The rest of the team had returned from a case nearby, and the agents conversed about what the other half had missed while you went to make some tea for yourself off in the kitchenette. 

Morgan wandered over from the group and poured himself a cup of coffee as you were steeping your tea.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said, bumping his hip lightly against yours.

“Howdy,” you smiled at him. 

“Ready for some rest?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I think Spencer would benefit from it as well.”

“You should encourage him to take the week off,” Morgan suggested. “He’s got the vacation time built up, and after all this, he should use it.”

You glanced over at Spencer who was deep in conversation with JJ. He was invested in what she was saying, but you could tell by the way he stood, and the deep circles under his eyes, that he should take some time for himself. Convincing him of that was going to be interesting.

“He  _ should _ ,” you smirked. “But will he?”

Morgan shook his head and sipped his coffee.

“He will if you ask,” Morgan decided. “He would do anything you asked.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” you said, your mind vaulting to ridiculous requests.

“I do,” Morgan said confidently. “And you would do the same for him. I think it’s nice. I wish I had someone like that, someone that I would do anything for.”

You saw that he was looking towards the end of the group where Garcia, dressed in a bright orange dress and flowers in her hair, stood, laughing.

“You will,” you promised.

As if he had suddenly, and only just now realized your absence, Spencer looked around with an almost frightened expression until he found you standing with Morgan. A subtle amount of relief washed over his features and you wondered what he thought had happened to you.

Excusing himself from the group, Spencer wandered over to where you were standing. He had a cute smile on his face that revealed none of the tumultuous emotional aftermath he must have been feeling.

“Morgan says you deserve a vacation,” you said by way of greeting. 

Spencer’s eyes flickered to Morgan who shrugged.

“All I’m saying is, I’ve hung out with your girl here, and she’s pretty cool. You might want to take some time to chill with her before she realizes that chocolate tastes sweeter than skim milk,” he winked at you.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, pushing him playfully in the arm.

“Milk makes for strong bones and teeth, as well as providing multiple vitamins,” Spencer said proudly, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

You were glad you were at the point now where Spencer no longer feared that your preference would suddenly shift to Morgan, or that you and Morgan felt like anything other than siblings.

“A vacation, huh?” he asked again.

“Or a stay-cation,” you offered, feeling like you’d rather not board another plane right away.

“Anywhere you go, I’d follow,” Spencer said wistfully. 

“I’m going to go to bed pretty soon,” you chuckled. 

“I will gladly follow there,” Spencer smirked.

“You guys,” Morgan laughed, shaking his head.

Garcia came over then, and grinned at all of your smiling faces.

“What’d I miss?” she asked.

“Milk is good for bones and teeth, and Spencer would follow me into a pit of spiders,” you informed her.

“Woah, we never discussed arachnids,” he said, holding up his hands as if in defense.

“You did say anywhere,” you reminded him. 

He dropped his hands in favor of reaching for one of yours and holding it.

“So I did,” he nodded.

“Well, that’s icky, so let’s not do that,” Garcia decided.

“Deal,” you agreed.

“We are going to go on a small vacation though,” you told her. “Somewhere close.”

“Oh!” She smiled, getting excited. “There’s a new museum slash planetarium that just opened up. It’s like a half hour away. Well, it’s not  _ open _ open yet, but I could totally get you in!” she squealed.

“You know a planetarium guy?” Morgan quirked an eyebrow.

She gave him a look like  _ Oh honey, I have a guy for everything. _

“I’ll give you his info, just say Penelope sent you. He’ll give you a tour or whatever you’d like,” she smiled.

“Wow, that sounds really awesome,” you said. “Thank you!”

“Anything for my OTP,” she grinned.

“OTP?” Spencer asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet, boy,” Garcia cooed without further explanation.

You chuckled at his clear confusion.

The rest of the team wandered over to you in the moments after this, and soon you were disbanding. Those of you who had gone to Las Vegas were heading home, while those who had stayed were going to finish up the day.

As you were walking into your apartment building after taking a cab home, you discussed your vacation plans.

“Would you really want to go to a planetarium?” Spencer asked. He sounded like a child asking if Santa really existed. You chuckled.

“Is that so remarkable?” you asked. “Space is awesome!”

He laughed at this and nodded.

“Space is awesome,” he agreed. “I just didn’t know if it would appeal to you.”

“Do I not look nerdy enough to enjoy the mysteries of the universe?” you asked, faking being appalled.

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t.”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, you can have a sense of style, and still look at the stars,” you informed him.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

“Plus, I think space is romantic,” you remarked, opening up Spencer’s door and walking into the apartment.

“Romantic?” he asked, confused. 

You rolled over the top of the couch and flopped onto the cushions, waiting as he rounded the side of it to lift your legs onto his lap as he sat down.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Do you know how many poets write about their loves in relation to the stars and the universe?” you asked.

He shook his head, although you were sure he was trying to index every poem he knew for an estimate.

“It’s a lot,” you assured him. “Oh, what’s that one… There’s this one that has a stanza that’s really amazing… Something about stars and the sun,” you tried to remember.

“Who’s it by?” he asked. 

“E.E. Cummings,” you said. 

Spencer nodded and stroked patterns on your leg with his finger.

“Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born, yours is the darkness of my soul’s return, you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars,” he recited.

“That’s it!” you smiled. 

He smiled sheepishly down at your legs as if he were embarrassed by knowing this poem.

“I thought you were too sciencey to read poetry,” you mocked him.

“Contrary to popular belief, you can be a multifaceted nerd,” he countered.

“Fair enough,” you smirked. “Also, I was right. Space - very romantic.”

He grinned and looked over at you with a look in his eyes you hadn’t quite seen before.

“What?” you asked. He shook his head.   
“Nothing,” he said.

You looked around the room for a moment, having been thinking about your walk into the apartment.

“Speaking of romantic,” you said, your nervousness building up. “I was thinking… My lease is up in two months since I didn’t sign the year one not knowing if I’d like it here… And I was wondering…”

“Yes,” Spencer said, nearly jumping off of the couch. You chuckled.

“I haven’t even asked yet,” you smiled.

“You want to move in,” he guessed.

“Well, yeah,” you answered. 

“Yes,” he repeated. “I would love that.”

You hadn’t thought he would have said no, and you had been basically living together this whole time anyway, but the amount of enthusiasm at the official move was heartwarming.

“Good,” you smiled. “Me too.”

He looked down again, and seemed to be thinking about something intently.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked. “Do you think it’s too soon?” you couldn’t help the fear that he might change his mind despite his enthusiasm.

“No,” he answered quickly. Then, he examined your face and his features took on a look of concern. “Do you?” he asked.

“No,” you answered. “I mean, time wise, maybe, but we’ve been basically living together this long anyway… And I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody,” you said. “I don’t think it’s too soon.”

He nodded. 

“So what were you thinking about?” you asked. He hadn’t answered your question yet.

“Oh,” he said, pushing his hand through his hair and looking anywhere but your face. “I was just thinking about the poem.”

“Mmm, it is nice,” you agreed.

“And true,” he added. When you waited for him to explain, he added, “You  _ are _ my sun, my moon, and all my stars,” he said. “My world revolves around you. You are my sun. And when I go through my darkest nights, you  _ are _ my moon and  _ all _ my stars. You’re the light in those dark times,” he said softly, nearly whispering.

You felt your chest clench, and you sprung over to him. He had clearly not expected such a reaction, although you could not tell how he hadn’t. 

You kissed him, straddling his lap to get better access.

“I fucking love you, Spencer Reid, do you know that?” you asked once you broke the kiss. “It’s not as eloquent as the way you put it,” you realized. “But I do.”

His hands were on  your hips, and he looked up at you as you hovered over him with no small amount of wonder in his eyes.

“I love how you put it,” he smiled, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. “And I do know,” he added.

You kissed him again, settling your lips against his and trying your best to tell him with your body just how much he was loved. The the end of your breathless encounter on the couch, your cheeks were sufficiently flushed and your hair tousled. Spencer looked to be quite the mess too, and the two of you cleaned up before heading to bed.

As discussed, Spencer took the week off in order to get his head together with everything that had happened, and subsequently, to spend time with you.

You called Garcia’s contact at the planetarium, Greg, about when you could possibly come and visit. He was more than happy to show you around that Wednesday, and seemed just about ready to offer you anything you could ask for. You wondered what this man’s connection with Garcia was, but you didn’t ask, you just appreciated it. 

For the first few days of Spencer’s vacation, you began moving some of your things over. Most of your necessities had migrated over a long time ago, but now came the time for sorting out what you wanted to keep and bring over, and what you wanted to get rid of. 

The apartment had come mostly furnished, so most of the big pieces weren’t yours. The most you had in terms of furniture were a few small tables, some book shelves, and a few chairs, all of which would easily fit in your new home.

Since you still had a little while until your lease was up, you took your time moving things over. It was easier than trying to move all at once, and you didn’t feel the pressure to decide on some more debatable keep-or-trash items.

You kept your freelance work to a minimum, keeping up with it just enough to keep your contacts. It was honestly nice to do nothing with Spencer. For a few days, you just lounged around and enjoyed each other’s company. This was how you knew he was the one. Many couples could go on dates, but few could sit in comfortable silence and enjoy just being in the same room.

You were looking forward to your planetarium date. It had been a long time since you’d been to one, or any kind of science building, and it felt a fun school trip. This time around, however, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting lost or being bored. This time you’d have the place to yourselves, and the whole universe to explore with the love of your life.

When Wednesday came, you packed a lunch and headed out in the early afternoon to the planetarium. The lot was basically deserted except for a few cars, one of which was Greg’s, the others you assumed were either other employees or construction workers finishing up some work before the grand opening next week. It was an incredibly large building with the tell tale dome of the planetarium at the back end.

You met Greg, a tall, older man, outside the building’s main entrance. He brought you inside and showed you around the main exhibits, answering all of Spencer’s questions as well as informing him of a few new facts. You listened despite some of it going over your head. You were just happy to look at the awesome models, the interactive stations, and the pictures.    
When you thought you had exhausted your tour, Greg led you to a door at the very back of the museum. You had almost forgotten that this was the main attraction - the planetarium dome. When he opened the door, you walked into the large space. The ceiling reached farther than you’d imagined. The room was filled with seats that all reclined to look at the magnificent dome. Up in the front of the room was the control panel. Greg led you to this and explained the main functions of the buttons.

“These here are pre-programmed shows,” he said, pointing to a few labeled buttons. “And these here let you explore. Here’s the keyboard,” he slid out a drawer beneath the buttons. “You can type in whatever you’d like and it’ll take you there.”

“This is amazing,” you marveled. 

“Yes, it certainly is,” Greg smiled. He looked at his watch and then back at the two of you. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Just find me when you’re leaving so I can lock this back up. Have fun.”

You weren’t expecting to be left alone in the room, but as Greg left, you somehow felt like he was some kind of wizard who’d given you a magical gift. You and Spencer stared silently at the control panel for a moment.

“Where do we even start?” you asked, looking at the plethora of button options.

He looked hesitantly at the many knobs and then pulled out the keyboard, quickly typing in something before hitting another button that made the room light up, and a galaxy appear on the ceiling. Looking up in delight, you listened as a deep-voiced narrator took you whirling through the night sky. Spencer seemed less interested in the ceiling’s magic, and more interested in watching your enraptured face.

“Altair and Vega,” the voice boomed. “Vega is the brightest star in the constellation Lyra, the fifth brightest star in the night sky and the second brightest star in the northern celestial hemisphere. Separated from Vega by the Milky Way Galaxy Spiral, Altair is the brightest star in the constellation Aquila and the twelfth brightest star in the night sky.”

You watched as the animations showed you the constellations and identified the stars. 

“Do you know the story of Altair and Vega?” Spencer asked, once the narration had ended.

You turned to him. He seemed to be blushing and was hesitating to keep eye contact.

“No, but I’m assuming you do,” you smirked.

He nodded and seemed to be embarrassed by this fact. You never understood why he thought his seemingly limitless knowledge would ever be something you wouldn’t find attractive. The stars glittered on the ceiling above you as he spoke softly.

“There’s a Chinese legend of a Weaver Girl and a Cowherd,” he began. You smiled, excited to hear the legend. “There are different variations, but essentially, the girl was a fairy who lived in heaven and weaved clouds. The boy was a simple mortal who herded cows. When she came down from heaven, they met and fell in love. They had two children together and were very happy.” You listened intently, smiling at the nice story. “However, her mother, a goddess, saw that she had done this, and was neglecting her duties, so she took out her hairpin and tore a river into the sky to separate the lovers. This made them stay on separate sides of a river, and they could only be together on one night every year, when magpies would take pity on them, and form a bridge for one of them to cross over for the night.”

“Only one night a year?” you asked, feeling pity for these mythic lovers.

“Mmm,” he affirmed, looking up at the two stars.

“I told you space was romantic,” you smiled. The corner of his lips turned upward. You looked up at the stars again and asked, “If we only had one night a year together, what would you want to do?”

He seemed to choke on something, as if caught off guard, and cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair nervously as he looked at you.

“I don’t know,” he said. “How long is a night, technically? Twelve hours? Eight?”

“Twelve,” you granted.

He considered this. 

“I would want to find a way to make sure we’d have more than one night. I don’t think I could handle not seeing you for a whole year,” he said. 

“How would you make that happen?” you asked, amused. “These are gods we’re talking about. Not sure you can reason with them.”

“Well, with my IQ, my broad knowledge of religions and how their gods work, and my ability to beg for mercy, I think I’d have a pretty good shot,” he smiled. 

You smiled, marveling at his brain, his confidence that he could move mountains to be with you, and his dedication to do so.

“What would you want to do?” he asked after a moment.

Considering this for a moment, you realized you didn’t know.

“It wouldn’t matter,” you said. “We could do anything, or nothing. All I would want is to hold your hand, look into your eyes, and kiss you.”

As you said it, you knew it to be true. Most couples might want to make love all night, or have a special event planned, but you didn’t. All you wanted was to be with him. The context, the activity, didn’t matter. All that mattered was him.

“Would you still want to be with me even if it was only one night a year?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation.

“Me too,” he smiled sheepishly. 

He took a step toward you and took your hands in his. You could see some of the stars and lights reflected in his eyes. As he leaned down to kiss you, his elbow hit a button and sent the ceiling whirling around you. The stars bursted bright, the sun glowed and dimmed, planets rushed across the the sky as his lips crashed into yours. 

When your lips parted, the stars had settled, and the narrator was quietly telling all about the creation of the universe. You looked up at him, brushed a loose strand of hair out of his face, and smiled.

You kissed him again as the universe was born around you, seeing only the reflection of light across your closed eyes as you melded your lips against his. After you were both breathless, you pulled away, both glancing up to see the early stages of the earth’s development.

Spencer took your hand and led you to a space that was void of chairs. You set down your packed lunch and broke it out, leaning back to watch the presentation Spencer had accidentally started.

You ate your sandwiches and watched the stars and planets roaming the ceiling. In the back of your mind you thought of Vega and Altair. While you saw him far more often than one night a year, with his job, it sometimes felt like that. If the two lovers could survive an eternity separated by a galaxy, you could survive a few weeks without Spencer while he saved lives.

When the presentation was finished, you walked back over to the control panel and played around with a few other buttons, learning about stars you’d never heard of and exploring planets and their moons. It was mid-afternoon by the time you had exhausted the panel of buttons in the planetarium. 

As you had planned, you found Greg near the front desk and thanked him for giving you such private and premium access to such a fantastic place. You promised to come to the grand opening when he gave you free tickets, and thanked him again for the great afternoon.

By the time you got home, it was time for dinner. You ordered Chinese food and ate happily on the couch, lounging and laughing with Spencer.

You went to bed, happy with the feeling that you had Spencer for the whole rest of the week until you had to part, rather than only a night before you’d be separated for the year. For while you meant what you said about your commitment to him, you knew your heart would break if you had to say goodbye more than you already did.


	23. Chapter 23

It felt like you’d somehow cheated the system by the end of the week. All this alone time with Spencer was the most luxury you’d ever felt. It was a great week filled with nothing but lazing around, making love, and laughing together. You’d built blanket forts, made a few cakes, eaten a ton of candy, held hands in the street, kissed in the rain, and shopped at more thrift stores than you thought existed in the area.

On the Sunday night before Spencer’s return to work, you were surprised to feel nothing but contentment. Sure, there were small feelings of fear for his safety, and you would miss him, but this week had restored you after everything that had happened. You felt whole again after spending so much time with him. You felt like there was a stronger connection now that would withstand a long time away.

You woke up early to see him off on that Monday morning, kissing him goodbye as he left with a longing look. You knew that you felt better sending him away, but you wondered if he had a harder time leaving after having stayed for so long. Would he maybe one day decide not to go back? Part of you knew you’d never ask him to leave his job because it was so important to him, but part of you hoped that he would eventually want to leave. Whether to start a family, or just to be with you, you’d never say no to more time with him.

You busied yourself with writing while he was away for the first few days. He called to say that they were working a serious case, and he was concerned it was going to be a nasty one. This didn’t seem any different from any other case they’d worked, so you weren’t unusually worried.

You’d never heard of the Boston Ripper, and the fact that he’d resumed killing after a substantial hiatus didn’t mean much to you. You were sad for the victims, of course, but you knew Spencer and his team would catch him. It was only a matter of time. The fact that Spencer was on the same coast as you was comforting as well, despite the horrid nature of his trip.

While Spencer was away, in the time that you weren’t working, you decided to move some more of your stuff over to your new home. Spencer called as you were staring at the bookshelf, trying to decide how to stuff your books in among his.

“We’re going to need a bigger bookshelf,” you answered the phone.

It was late, as it usually was when Spencer called you. The only time he got off on this case was at night, when they basically forced the agents to sleep. You always made sure to stay up.

“We’ll have to go thrifting again,” he said. He sounded tired, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you muttered, putting the phone on speaker to shift through the books on the shelf.

You came across a small, leather book with no title on the binding. You pulled it out, and saw it had no title on the cover either. “Hey, what’s this plain leather book?” you asked.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat. “That’s um… a journal,” he said.

You quickly put the book down as if it were a bomb, careful not to peek inside.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll just put it back,” you answered.

“No, no it’s okay,” he said after a moment. “If… If you wanted to read it, you could. I wouldn’t keep anything from you.”

You looked at the small journal and smiled, proud that Spencer would let you into his innermost thoughts without hesitation.

“It was part of the recovery program after everything with Tobias,” he explained. That would have been around the time that he met you. You were extremely curious to see what his first impressions would be.

“Really, you’d let me read this?” you confirmed.

“It’s not exactly a page turner,” Spencer laughed. “But if you’re bored enough, sure, you’re welcome to it.”

“Wow,” you said. “Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” Spencer said quietly. 

You placed the journal aside for the moment and picked up the phone to walk around aimlessly as you chatted.

“So, how’s the Ripper?” you asked.

Spencer sighed heavily.

“Turns out, he was one of the victims,” Spencer said.

“How does that work?” you asked.

“He stabbed himself to make it look like he was a victim, but it was just a cover up.”

“Well, that’s weird. But at least you know who it is now, and you can go get him, right?” you asked.

Spencer voice was quiet, defeated.

“He’s in the wind,” he said. “He set us up and attacked Morgan, and now he’s gone. Even Garcia can’t find him. It… It sort of looks like we’re giving up on this one for now.”

You stopped in your tracks, utterly shocked at this statement. The good guys never gave up, they always found the guy.

“You’re giving up?” you repeated.

“Well, we’re keeping vigilant eyes out for him, but he’s smart. It’s going to take a while before he makes a mistake. But we can’t just wait around until he does, letting other killers go free.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you agreed, feeling uneasiness grow within you. “Is Morgan okay?” you asked, remembering the first part of the unsettling statement.

“Yeah, he’s fine, just rattled up. We all are. We’re heading back tomorrow until we’re called on another case,” he said, sounding dejected.

“Well, as sorry as I am that you didn’t get him, I’m not sorry that you’re heading home,” you admitted.

“I’m happier than ever that you’re going to be there when I do,” he said, sighing.

“What do you want for dinner tomorrow?” you asked. “I can make something special if you want.”

“Mac n’ cheese?” he asked sheepishly. “With those breadcrumb things on top?”

“Breadcrumb mac n’ cheese, you got it,” you smiled.

“Thanks. I’ll text you when we’re leaving,” he said.

“Okay, love you,” you said.

“Love you too. Bye.”

You hung up and put your phone down. You walked back over to the books and picked up his journal. It felt light despite its doubtless heavily morose contents. You wondered if you should read it. Spencer had said you were welcome to, but should you leave him this one privacy? He shared himself with you almost completely, and you wanted to know his mind, but would this be too much? In the end, you decided to read it. If he hadn’t wanted you to know what he had gone through, he would have simply asked you not to read it. It almost felt like he wanted you to know more about him, and this was a way he could allow that.

You settled down onto the couch with some wine and flipped open to the first entry. His handwriting was messy, and there were notes along the edges that meddled with the writing on the lines. It took you a moment to figure out how to read it and to get used to his handwriting, but once you did, you were enraptured.

The first entry was dated only a week before you met him.

 

_ I’ve never found writing to be a useful tool for me to express my feelings. My brain works far too quickly for my pencil to keep up, and I find it hinders my thinking process. However, a doctor at the University of Texas contends that writing daily not only helps deal with stress and anxiety about life, it also strengthen immune cells. Regardless, my rehab requires that I do so, and I am willing to give it a shot if it will help with the nightmares. _

_ I suppose that would be an apropos way to begin this entry. I know the function of nightmares. I know everything there is to know about the way the brain deals with tragedy and anxiety. All of this knowledge amounts to nothing when I am asleep. When I am asleep he comes for me every night. He beats me, makes me choose whom to kill, and tortures me. Sometimes Tobias will show up and make the pain go away, but then I wake up with a terrible urge to find more Dilaudid and make all the pain go away. That’s all I want. I want the pain to go away. The team can’t help me. My mother certainly can’t help me. I’ve never felt so alone. _

 

You took a breath and tore your eyes away from the page to find they had filled to the brim with tears. You’d forgotten how far he had come and how much he had had to deal with all alone.

You read as he expanded upon his nightmares, going into details that you had to make yourself keep reading despite the fact that your brain vividly imagined all of his suffering. He went on, after that, to expand upon his feelings in the week before he met you.

 

_ I’ve been on leave for a while now and find my feeling of purpose in this life to be slipping away easier than I imagined. When Hotch first suggested I take some time to get over all of this, and I believe he knew about the drugs I had stolen, I took his advice, thinking I would just go through the motions and return to the team, having fulfilled their need for me to have had time to heal. _

_ Once I was alone in my apartment, I found my desire to return to the job diminish. I found my desire to do anything has diminished. I don’t read, I don’t eat, and I am afraid that if this continues I will certainly not fair well. However, I cannot seem to find a reason to do these things. I remember reading “Slaughterhouse Five” and Vonnegut had a character in war who said, “If you stop taking pride in your appearance, you will very soon die.” And I see now how accurate that seems to be. I’ve stopped even getting dressed in the morning and I feel myself slipping, but I can’t seem to muster the energy to stop it. _

_ Morgan and the others stop by when they can, and I do my best to convince them that I am fine. They have more important things to worry about than me.  _

 

Again you had to take a break, feeling your heart break at how alone and unloved Spencer was feeling at this point. You read through the entries of loneliness and dealing with his addiction until you came to the entry where the two of you met.

 

_ If ever there were a purpose for journals, this is it. Today, something amazing happened. Although I have an eidetic memory, I find myself nervous that I will forget even one detail of this encounter, and I dare not take that chance. I met my new neighbor today. Her name is (Y/N). She screamed, and it sent me on high alert, my nerves finding their life again. I burst into her apartment with my gun, ready to defend the screamer before I even met her. Suspecting an older woman, as I have come to expect in this building, I was surprised to find a beautiful young lady. After she realized I wasn’t about to shoot her, that I was there to help her, we talked.  _

_ She said she screamed because of a cockroach. I felt like an idiot when I spewed out a fact about them, but she actually smiled at me. Usually when I give these facts they’re just automatic responses. The team usually stares at me, or jokes that I’m not human… But she didn’t do that. She seemed impressed, a reaction I am not used to. I expected to leave immediately after frightening her, but she invited me in. I was even further surprised to learn that she had an interest in serial killers, a thing most people seem to fear and avoid. _

_ There was something so… disarming about her. When she observed, rather astutely I might add, that it might be hard to deal with things I’ve seen… I didn't give her a generic answer as I’ve given so many others. I admitted that it was, at times, unbearable. This is the first time I’ve been honest with someone since Tobias. _

_ We talked some more about my job and hers, and when she learned about my IQ, she again showed no sign that she thought I was strange or a freak. I thought at first this might be some elaborate trick, that she might lure me in and then make fun of me. But she didn’t. She invited me over again. _

_ I know I will not take her up on it though. She is far too beautiful, far too lovely, and far too kind for someone like me. She deserves someone who isn’t falling to pieces, and I want to give her space to find that. _

 

You almost smiled at this last entry. It was flattering that he thought he didn’t have a chance with you. Seeing how far you’d come since this entry, it was good to know that he did finally see how you belonged to each other and deserved each other. 

 

_ The irrationality of my emotions befuddles me. While I told myself I would not interfere with this woman’s life, I found my thoughts essential trampled by images of her face and remembrances of her touch. I had almost convinced myself that I should allow some contact, if only to keep this sudden interest in life alive. I was going to say something to her, going to knock on her door and take her up on her generous offer, but then reality struck, as it always does. When I came home from another AA meeting, who did I see lounging and laughing with her but Morgan. When I first saw them together, all I could think was, “Of course.” Because it’s always that way isn’t it? Even when he isn’t trying he gathers the attention of every woman in the room. I don’t know why I should have thought this was any different, or why I should have this one good thing in my life.  _

 

You saddened reading this, and saw that after this entry was an aside that he had added later the same evening.

 

_ My behavior was abhorrent today. These days it seems like my emotions are at the wheel and they are remarkably unreliable. Morgan just left, and I feel like the worst friend in the world. He had come to check up on me, to make sure that I was still here and still functioning. I went and had a hissy fit because he was  _ talking _ to a girl I have no business feeling attached to. _

_ I later went over to apologize to her because I had acted so childishly, and I found my mind would not let me rest if I didn’t make up for it. I felt like my entire body was on fire as I spoke to her. She was so beautiful and so kind, taking my apology and forgiving me despite my crudeness. It was all I could do not to ask her to dinner, but I found the probability of a favorable answer was very low, and couldn’t risk it despite my heart’s most ardent wishes. _

 

It was wonderful to know that despite your limited interactions in the beginning of your relationship, he felt the same pull and the same desire to spend time with you as you had for him. The tumult of his emotions surrounding Morgan were understandable, and you were happy again to realize how far he had come in terms of that problem as well.

You saw another entry the next day, and remembered the horrible bug that had spurred your first night with Spencer.

_ I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s as if I lent out my body to some stranger and let him control it for a while. I somehow invited (Y/N) to spend the night in order to save her from having to stay at a hotel. Where did this brazen invitation come from? And more importantly, why did she say yes? She must see me as the weirdo next door, and yet she seemed… happy with this invitation.  _

_ She was worried about imposing, which is honestly hilarious. As if I wouldn’t give up my entire apartment and sleep on a park bench if it would make her smile.  _

_ She brought Chinese food over and didn’t laugh at my need to use a fork. I thought I would be nervous wreck the entire time, and at first I was.  _

_ At first, I was self conscious about everything. I thought I might be breathing too loud, or smiling too much, or not smiling enough. But as we started talking, I relaxed. And although I do not think I could ever forget these words, I must write them down. I couldn’t help but ask her about Morgan and what she thought of him, almost like some masochistic need to hear her say the words I had told myself were true - she preferred him and I would be second choice, if any choice, as usual. _

_ However, and this may be the continuance of some cosmic trick, she said, “I think you’re amazingly intelligent, kind, and engaging.” I’ve heard freakishly, abnormally, and scarily intelligent, but never amazingly. I thought I had heard her wrong for a moment, but through some miracle, she seemed to be telling the truth. _

_ And of course, I couldn’t go too long without embarrassing myself. I indirectly told her she was beautiful, and that of course she wouldn’t have any problem traversing the social arena as I did, but she admitted to feeling awkward and out of place just as much as anyone else, including myself. She thinks that we are on the same level, while Morgan possesses more charm and ease. While she is right about Morgan, I do not believe us to be on the same level. She seems so at ease and so comfortable with herself. It is all I can do not to think of every Shakespearean love sonnet when I look at her. _

_ As if this weren’t enough, she actually said she would prefer if I were in her apartment over Morgan. I’m not sure how this is possible, but I’m willing to do almost anything to make it true. _

_ Before we went to bed, she hugged me. She willingly walked up to me, and wrapped her arms around me. I was so stunned, it was all I could do to compute what was happening in that moment. I eventually regained the use of my arms and clumsily wrapped them around her. She was so warm and soft, fitting perfectly against my body. I breathed her in and felt my heart pounding so loudly I thought she would hear it and mock me. But she would never do that, even if she had heard it. She looked up at me with the sweetest eyes, and I understand now, how poets feel when they look at the stars. _

_ When the nightmares came that night, as they always do, I awakened to get some water. Forgetting, somehow, that she was there, I was surprised to see she was still up. I ended up reading to her, and she moved to cuddle up next to me. I thought my heart would either stop or explode. The feeling of her skin on mine, her sleepy but brilliant eyes were almost too much. I tried not to tremble like some nervous kid, but I felt like I was a teenager again. _

_ She fell asleep within ten minutes, and I watched her breathing settled into a steady rhythm. This seemed to calm me, and I fell asleep soon after.  _

_ Now, this is the remarkable part - I did not have any nightmares. For the entire time since my kidnapping, I have had terrifying nightmares every night. But not with her. As if she were some beautiful drug, I had peaceful dreams. With her body against mine, shielding me, it seemed, I was free from terror. _

_ As is she weren’t already a divine creature, she proved herself even more ethereal when she quoted poetry to me. She quoted “Desiderata,” and told me that despite the horrible things I’ve seen, there is still good in the world. And for the first time in a long time, I believed those words, because I know that she is one of those things. _

_ She said she wanted to get together later, and it took me a moment to realize she was serious. After my muttering awkwardness and fumbling touches, she still wanted to be in my company. I am not sure I should allow this, as, if she somehow comes to realize I am not whatever she thinks I am, I do not believe I could take it. _

 

You remembered that night fondly, thinking about how adorably nervous he was around you then, and marveling that he thought you were some kind of ethereal creature when you thought you were even more awkward than he was. You had forgotten how fragile he had been back then, and were proud of him for building up his confidence. You found an entry dated later in the evening, after you had come over for the promised second hang out.

 

_ Gravity and physics are working against me. I thought I would die of embarrassment when I spilt wine all over (Y/N). To my surprise and relief, she laughed. She looked like someone had just dumped blood all over her white clothes, and yet she was laughing. Of course, in the time it took for me to get a solvent for the wine, Morgan and Garcia had shown up.  _

_ I honestly thought I had never seen anything more beautiful when I saw her standing there in only my towel. Her hair was wet and messy, she had washed off her makeup, and stood only in a short towel, absolutely radiant. I somehow managed to form words and she left for a few moments to change. It was hard to look at anything other than her, but not wanting her to think I was objectifying her, and to make sure she didn’t feel uncomfortable, I turned to see Morgan’s absurd grin. _

_ When she left, Morgan predictably teased me about how he never thought I’d get a girl like that over here, let alone in a towel, practically naked. While I know he was only joking, his jests were correct. I never thought I would get a girl like that over here, and although I have somehow managed such a feat, anything other than platonic friendship seems absolutely impossible. Garcia thought she was “cute,” which, I restrained myself from informing her, was an egregious understatement. _

_ I never thought I would hear someone quote Jean-Paul Sartre, and yet there she was, using his words as if they came as naturally as her own. _

_ When it came out that she had stayed at my apartment that night, Morgan seemed incredibly surprised. While I cannot pretend I did not have the same reaction to her acceptance of my invitation, it was a tad disheartening. _

_ Not surprisingly, and in great contrast to her proclamations of being socially awkward, (Y/N) made fast friends with Morgan and Garcia. The night was… fun… A word I did not expect to use again in the near future of such horrible events. All too quickly it was over, and Morgan and Garcia left, followed closely by (Y/N). She wished me sweet dreams, and it came rushing back to me that I would once again be visited by Tobias despite my one night’s reprieve.  _

_ Watching her leave and take all of her wonder and smiles with her was like watching a sun set for the last time. _

 

Your heart felt full to bursting with the amount of romantic writing Spencer had done so early after meeting you. It was so interesting to see such a technical mind talk in such abstract and poetic tones. You read on to the night when you first went out with the team.

 

_ I would swear to whatever god it would please, that dresses like the one she wore tonight were designed specifically for her and no one else. I was dreading a night out for several reasons, but I went because of (Y/N), and I am glad I did. I stumbled a bit, and felt at first embarrassed when the flashbacks hit, but to my surprise, she seemed concerned, and even held my hand. The moment I could feel her skin against mine, I felt grounded. She pulled me back several times from the brink, a few without even knowing it. _

_ I thought I had messed it up beyond repair when I was too nervous to ask her to dance with me. I felt that sensation that I had been waiting for - that this was only a tremulous illusion and it would break after a moment’s weakness. I knew that I had to do something to try to hold on to what little amount of happiness I had managed to procure. I took the only chance I saw left, and asked her to dance with me in my apartment.  _

_ It felt as if I were a dying man asking a small favor. She obliged, and danced with me. Holding her so close, feeling her breath on my skin, her arms around me, I almost melted. For a moment, I thought of kissing her. I thought of how nice it would feel to feel her lips against mine - a thought I have rarely encountered and almost never acted upon. And yet, I couldn’t. I did not imagine it would be welcomed, and I couldn’t risk to ruin such a perfect moment.  _

_ But that is alright. I do not need anything from her other than her presence if she will grant me that. I would gladly stay by her side if she never even glanced at me. Although when she does glance, I feel like the luckiest man on the planet - a feeling that is foreign and intoxicating. _

_ Again I had to watch her leave, and as soon as the door closed, I felt the familiar darkness come where there once had seemed to be light. I am irreconcilably terrified. I find I am beginning to need her, and I’m not sure I can rely on that. What if she realizes that she doesn’t really feel anything for me? I believe she will one day, and it will destroy me. But until then, I find I have no control over what I say to her, despite my brain’s protests. I find my urge to use significantly decreased as of late, and although the nightmares are still unbearable, I at least wish to make it to the next morning if only for a chance to see her again. _

It was getting very late in the evening, but you couldn’t put down the journal. It was like reading your own doubts but in different words. Here you had thought you couldn’t stand up to his intellect, that he was out of your league with his wits and his job. You saw now that you both had insecurities, and had somehow overcome them and fell in love. You saw the next entry was after the night you had first spent with him after you heard his nightmares through the walls.

 

_ I told her almost everything. I have never told anyone as much as I told her last night. I didn’t want to lay all this horrible drudgery on her, but she listened. She didn’t run away, she didn’t seem repulsed. She just listened and helped me. She also told me something I will never forget. She said that the scars on my arm from Tobias are my strength. They show me that I have survived and I can keep surviving. She said they were beautiful. If only she knew that to see what true beauty was, she needed only to look at herself. _

_ Then, she pulled me into my own bedroom, as confidently as if we’d been doing this our whole lives. I tried not to let my knees buckle at the sight of her in my bed. While I don’t often consider such adventures, something about her makes me think that it might be possible.  _

_ When she pulled my arm and wrapped me around her, I had to remind myself to breathe. This beautiful, amazing woman wanted me to hold her, to stay with her. I found I was thankful for the dark to hide both my flustered features and my blushing face.  _

_ She fit perfectly against me, and I thought that if I had to choose a sensation as my last, it would be holding her against me. _

_ Needless to say, in such arms as hers, my dreams were much less violent. _

_ Despite my brain’s apparent plan to sabotage this relationship, anything I thought would end in failure seemed to delight her. When I showed her a magic trick, she smiled, and I thought if I could continue to make her smile, it would be a worthwhile life. When I read a book quickly in front of her, she didn’t think I was a freak, she seemed impressed at my speed. She even called me “incredible, brilliant, and astonishing,” words I believe better describe her. _

_ She ended up staying the night again, and this time I felt even more comfortable with her. I am starting to believe that through some cosmic mishap, I have secured a friend whom I can trust. I do not  let myself dwell too much on other possibilities, but for now, it is enough. _

 

Again it was like reading your own thoughts. You saw the doubt that the relationship would evolve into anything other than friendship, and were surprised to see that you seemed confident to him, when all you remember was nervousness.

You remembered the next section’s events well, and were grateful that you had been able to convince him that his trepidations were wrong.

 

_ As I write this, she is sleeping in my bed. It’s early, too early to be thinking these thoughts and yet they’re plaguing my mind. Last night, we kissed. I don’t even remember who initiated it, but somehow her lips were on mine and I felt explosions in my body that I have never felt before. Physical intimacy has not interested me until I found her, and now her lips are all I think about. _

_ And yet, I know what this is. I now realize it was not a trick, but rather a psychological condition. When she wakes, I am prepared to inform her that she has Florence Nightingale Syndrome. While this realization will free her from spending any more time with me, it will also break my heart. I am not ready to give up these feelings, but I owe it to her to give her the truth. _

_ I did not know it was possible to look at something so beautiful and feel so sad. _

 

You shook your head, wondering how such a smart man could have been so silly. Of course you had never been under any delusion, you had just fallen for him plain and simple. The next entry was just below it, dated just after you had left after breakfast.

 

_ I’m not sure what I have done to deserve this, but (Y/N) seems to truly like me. She denied my diagnosis and despite my lack of confidence, I was persuaded by her kiss and vehement proclamations.  We have a date set for this evening, and I find myself looking forward to the event… Something that has not happened in a long time. Whether or not I can be worthy of such attention as hers has yet to be determined, but for my own survival, if not for my happiness, I must try to be. _

 

Another entry was dated the morning after.

 

_ I am in complete bliss. Last night, we had an amazing date, followed by an equally amazing evening. We were… intimate. At least more so than I have ever been before. I never thought I would want someone like that, but when I was with her… She is simply something else. The way she made me feel, and the way I made her feel was something I will treasure. _

_ I am less afraid to confess now that I am dangerously close to admitting that I am in love with her. _

 

You smiled at this entry and flipped to the next page. After this, it seemed the entries got shorter and farther in between. You found one that sparked your interest. It was dated the day following the night you had first said “I love you” to each other.

 

_ I have never known anything to be unquantifiable. My entire life I have studied physics, math, engineering - all sciences with quantifiable data. Yet I find it impossible to quantify my love for (Y/N). She came out to see me on a particularly horrible day. The sight of her made all of the imagery in my head turn from blood red, to a soft, calming blue. I lashed out, afraid that she would think I was weak for not dealing with my job as I thought I should. Of course, she did not, and instead calmly relayed that she loved me.  _

_ I must admit, there are few times that my brain goes completely blank, but this was one of those times. When she said the words and didn’t take them back, when she stared at me with that smile and that  _ look _ in her eyes… I just stopped. Never had I thought I would hear those words from a woman, let alone from a woman such as her. It took me a while to wrap my mind around it, a concept that in itself is baffling to me, that I should have to take the time to wrap my mind around an idea. I believe she thought I was kidding when I questioned her if she truly meant this, but I had to make sure. If I had somehow hallucinated this event, and got my hopes up too high, I would shatter when reality hit. However, she maintained her proclamation, and I eagerly returned the sentiment, although I do not believe she understands how truthfully and vehemently I mean it.  _

_ While I would have happily stayed by her side if she merely tolerated me, the fact that she loves me… God, the fact that I can write that sentence alone… The fact that she  _ loves _ me, makes any horror I’ve ever lived through seem to melt away. She makes the dark parts of me bright. She makes me laugh, she makes me think, and most importantly, she makes me want to live. _

  
You felt warmth in your chest and cheeks at these words. You felt the same for Spencer, and it was remarkable how similarly your brains worked despite their differences. There were a few other entries detailing happy moments in your relationship, but nothing close to what had been written earlier. You realized, after a moment, that it was because of you. He had started this journal in order to get his thoughts out and process them. However, once he opened up to you, once he trusted you, he didn’t need the journal. He didn’t need anything other than your confidence to get him through the days. The thought warmed you, and you had to tell yourself to go to sleep so you could be fresh and ready for Spencer the next day, despite your inclination to re-read the journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I tried to get Spencer's journal voice, but I'm not sure I got it quite right so I beg forgiveness. I thought it'd be interesting to have a different tone (a little more poetic, especially after meeting you), so I hope it worked!
> 
> Also, we're onto the Foyet story line, but with a few twists (happy ones) and shortcuts, along with other shenanigans thrown in! Hope you're still enjoying it!
> 
> I've got all of this story line written, but if there's another case/plot line that you'd like to see come into play after this, let me know!


	24. Chapter 24

You couldn’t wait for Spencer to get home. It felt like ages until he was back in your arms, and once you were done kissing him, you let him in through the door and he put his stuff down.

“I see you’ve almost completely moved your stuff over?” he noticed, seeing all the books and some furniture you’d moved over.

“Almost,” you agreed. “There’s a few things I’m just leaving until I can sell them or donate them.”

“So we are officially living together?” he asked, a spark in his eyes.

“Yes,” you agreed, kissing him.

Your eyes slid down to where the books lay, and you saw his journal where you had left it by the couch. His eyes followed yours and he looked back at you when he saw what you were looking at.

“Did you read it?” he asked quietly. You looked up at him and nodded. He seemed nervous, like you would suddenly chastise him for something you had read.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” you said.

“I was worried you might find it too depressing,” he admitted with a frown.

“Actually, I found it encouraging,” you answered. He looked confused. “You’ve grown so much,” you explained. “Even in just the way you write about the world, I could tell, you changed so much, and have healed so much too.”

“Well, I had some help,” he smiled shyly at you.

“Regardless of the how, the fact that you’ve gotten this far is wonderful,” you said, not wanting to credit yourself for his improvements.

“I thought you might find me creepy, thinking those thoughts of you so early,” he blushed.

“I was thinking the same things,” you assured him. 

His eyebrows perked up at this and he cocked his head to the side.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “When you danced with me that night, I wanted you to kiss me. When we slept beside each other that first night, I was nervous, and I wanted you to hold me.”

He looked surprised by this, but pleased.

“I thought I would never deserve you,” he said, looking down at his shoes. “I thought you would realize your mistake and leave.”

“There’s been no mistake,” you promised. “I’m here for good. Every birthday,” you reminded him. He nodded.

“Well, I will have to find some way to spend the time between those birthdays,” he smiled as he kissed you. “This seems like a good place to start.”

You giggled as he wrapped his arms around you. You jumped, and he caught you, carrying you into the bedroom. 

When you made love that night, you thought about the man he had been when you met him. You loved that man, but you loved the man he had become as well. 

A month passed that seemed to somehow fly by. While Spencer was there with you for maybe half the time, the other time he was away on various cases. You had met a few times with the team while they were home, finding that they were all feeling unrest in the aftermath of the mess around Foyet. They seemed helpless to do anything until he made a mistake. This feeling of powerlessness wasn’t new to you. You personally had never been able to catch the criminals, and often felt that you were leaving it up to the criminals to decide the fates of the people you loved most. However, you could understand that this was not the norm for them. They were used to being in control. Letting a criminal run their lives was something new for all of them. While Morgan would not talk about whatever attack Foyet had launched on him specifically, you could tell it rattled him more than it did the others.

When the team got back from a case at the end of the month, it was quite near Hotch’s birthday. To give a little relief to the stress the team had been feeling, he invited everyone over to his apartment for a small celebration. He and Haley, his soon-to-be ex-wife, had separated, and he now owned a very nice two bedroom apartment near the team’s office.

You were obviously thrilled at the invitation, and bought Hotch a book you thought he’d enjoy, as well as a Captain America shield for Jack. Although you hadn’t met Hotch’s son, and he wasn’t going to be there when you were at his apartment, you wanted Hotch to know that you cared for him and his family.

You and Spencer were the last to arrive at Hotch’s apartment and were greeted by a rousing cheer of the team. Someone, Garcia you suspected, had put up some decorations. Hotch’s apartment was classy, but devoid of the lived in feeling. You imagined he spent most of his time at the office which would explain that. You greeted everyone and handed over your present for Hotch. 

“Is there something you’d like to tell us?” Morgan asked, looking at the shield. You hadn’t wrapped it since Jack wasn’t going to be here. It would be a surprise waiting on his bed if Hotch would allow it.

“Oh,” you laughed. “This is for Jack.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” Hotch smiled. You liked seeing him smile, it fit well on his features.

“Ah, well, I got one for me too,” you admitted. Spencer laughed and confirmed this. “Should I just go leave it in his room?” you asked.

“Sure,” Hotch nodded. “It’s just down the hall to the left.”

“Cool,” you smiled. 

You put down your bag and headed down the hallway to Jack’s room, shield in hand. Opening the door, you found your typical young boy’s room. Dinosaurs and superheroes seemed to be the main themes. You gently placed the shield on the bed, propping it up so that it would be the first thing he saw when he next entered his room. The shield fell over, wedging itself between the wall and his pillow. You moved the pillow to get at it, and found something underneath by accident. Thinking it was probably a plastic dinosaur, you were surprised to find it was the metal edge of a badge. Pulling it out, you saw that it was Morgan’s FBI credentials. Smiling, thinking Morgan had left a present of his own for Jack, you took the badge and rearranged the shield and pillows to perfection. You sauntered down the hall and flipped open the badge as you commanded the attention of the room.

“Agent Morgan, FBI,” you said in your best impression.

When their slack faces showed signs of terror, rather than amusement, you faltered. You looked at the badge and then back at them. What was going on?

“What?” you asked. “I found it under Jack’s pillow. Didn’t you leave it there for him?” you asked.

Hotch was the first to recover from what seemed to be a stop in the flow of time. He whipped out his phone and left the room. Spencer was next to recover, rushing over to you. Morgan quickly followed, grabbing a tissue from the nearby table before coming to take the badge from you using the tissue.

Your stomach dropped as you felt the wrongness of the situation hit you. Morgan had not left his badge there. Something had happened, something horrible.

Once the badge was out of your hands, Spencer’s arms were around you. It was as if he were trying to comfort you, but you didn’t know what you should be comforted from. 

“Can someone explain what’s happening?” you asked. 

“Garcia, I need you,” Hotch called from the other room.

“Coming, sir,” she responded, her eyes filled with terror. She bolted from the room, leaving only the six of you.

“Let’s all just sit down,” Morgan suggested, taking a seat at the table and gesturing for the others to join him. They did so, tentatively and tensely.

“What is happening?” you asked again.

“It’s Foyet,” Spencer nearly whispered.

“What? How?” you asked.

“When Foyet attacked me, he knocked me out,” Morgan explained. “He could have killed me, but he didn’t because he couldn’t see the fear in my eyes. Instead, he took my badge.”

You felt your fingers burn where you had held the thing, and felt your stomach churn knowing that Foyet had been in Jack’s room.

“Oh god,” you said, feeling nauseous. “Does that mean…” You couldn’t even finish the thought.

Just then, Hotch walked in, his face pale and his expression grim. Garcia followed him, her cheeks wet with tears.

“Are they--” Morgan started.

“They’re being placed in witness protection,” Hotch said evenly. 

“Good,” JJ said. “They’ll be safe there.”

Hotch nodded, but didn’t look convinced. 

Just then, the landline rang. You didn’t even know that anyone used a landline anymore, and everyone looked equally surprised at the occurrence. Hotch glanced around the room, nodding at Garcia, before slowly picking up the receiver and putting it on speaker. Garcia got on her cellphone, mumbling something into the receiver frantically as Hotch began to speak.

“Hello,” he answered, his voice even despite the frantic panic he must be feeling.

“Agent Hotchner,” a taunting voice sounded through the phone. “I knew you’d find my present.”

Hotch took his time answering, seeing Garcia’s expression was not one of confidence in what you assumed would be in regards to tracing the call.

“I knew you’d leave one,” Hotch responded. 

“Well, I had to let little Jackie know I was thinking about him,” he said, almost seductively.

“You weren’t thinking about him,” Hotch nearly spat. “You were thinking about me.”

“You do have me there, Aaron,” he said. You realized you’d never heard anyone call him by his first name before.

“You won’t get to them,” Hotch said fiercely.

“Maybe not, but I like a challenge. I’ve never had a kid before,” Foyet mused.

Hotch’s eyes closed for nearly a ten seconds as he took a breath. Garcia was still frantically talking into her phone, trying her best to trace the call and failing.

“Speaking of kids, the boy genius has a new toy, doesn’t he?” Foyet observed. 

Your entire body turned cold. Spencer tensed and pulled you to him, looking around the room as if Foyet might be lurking in some unseen corner.

“Her skin seems soft, easily sliced,” he purred. “But I’m not interested in her. I’m interested in  _ you _ , Aaron. And do you know why?”

Hotch looked to Garcia who shook her head while trying her best to communicate to whomever was on the other line.

“Because I am the leader of this team and your ego insists you take down the strongest of the group,” Hotch answered analytically.

“No, no, no,” Foyet laughed. “It’s because you’re the most  _ fun _ to play with.”

Hotch’s chest heaved as he tried to steady his breath. You were fairly sure no one else was breathing.

“You know the deal. You stop hunting me, I stop hunting them,” he offered.

For a moment, you wanted Hotch to make that deal. Only for a moment, and then you found your heart agreed with his next words.

“I can’t do that,” Hotch said. “You’ve killed so many people and they deserve justice. I will find you. And when I do, I will kill you.”

You saw no mark of hesitation on Hotch’s face. His brow was steady, his hands did not shake. You believed that he would kill this man, should he find him.

“Well then, I look forward to it,” Foyet said before you heard the click of the line going dead.

Hotch threw the phone onto the counter and turned his attention to Garcia.

“I -- I’m sorry sir,” she nearly cried. “He was pinging off too many towers and we couldn’t--”

“Penelope,” Hotch said, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing. “It’s okay.”

She let out a huge breath and nearly collapsed. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, less fearfully.

“It’s okay,” he repeated.

Morgan moved to wrap an arm around her and she gratefully leaned into him.

“What are we going to do?” JJ asked.

“The same we’ve been doing,” Rossi answered. “Hunt him with the profile.”

“What about (Y/N)?” Spencer asked desperately.

“I’m fine,” you assured him.

“No, he specifically addressed her presence, she’s not safe,” Spencer insisted. 

From what you heard, he just wanted to scare you since he hadn’t had the pleasure yet. He seemed pretty intent on Hotch.

“True,” Hotch admitted. “I don’t believe she is in direct danger, but we should definitely assign a detail to her.”

“A detail?” you asked.

“Police, to monitor you, make sure you’re safe,” Prentiss explained.

“I’ll stay with her,” Spencer declared. 

“We need you, kid,” Morgan said. “I get that you wanna protect your girl, but you have to do that by helping us with your big brain.”

“He’s right,” you insisted. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Spencer said, his voice cracking.

“Then she comes with us,” Hotch said. The team turned to him, surprised. “If anyone asks, she’s a consultant. We need Reid. We need to keep her safe. This is the best way to do that.”

The team considered this in silence. You thought it was a pretty good idea. Being surrounded by FBI agents was probably the safest and coolest thing you could imagine for yourself.

“We’re going to have to deal with other cases while we hunt Foyet,” Hotch continued. “It could take a while. I’m not sure a police detail would be enough, but we also don’t have enough to put her in Witness Protection.”

“Keeping her with us seems like a good plan,” Rossi decided. 

“I, for one, am all for it,” Garcia said, her eyes less watery in Morgan’s arms.

“Sounds good to me,” you said breathlessly. 

You felt Spencer hug you tighter to him. He didn’t seem convinced that you would be safe enough - perhaps he would have preferred to put you in some kind of giant locking safe - but he was silent, watching as Hotch made the calls necessary to secure your position.

The party had obviously lost its celebratory vibe, and you found it hard to muster any sort of smile under the circumstances. Who knew how long Foyet would be out there, hunting. How long would Hotch have to wait to see his son?

When he returned from making his calls, Hotch approached you.

“You’re going to have a police escort to and from the bureau, and stationed outside your apartment when you’re not with us,” he explained. “When we’re on a case, you will fly with us and an agent will be with you at all times, armed,” he went on. “Do you feel comfortable with this arrangement?”

The way he said it felt like he’d run this drill a thousand times. You felt safer just knowing he was in charge.

“Yes,” you answered, your voice less shaky than you’d expected.

“Good,” he said simply.

Hotch glanced out the window as two patrol cars arrived. Their red and blue lights fanned across the window and reflected onto the ceiling. 

“The two of you should get home,” Hotch said to you and Spencer. “There will be police posted at all entrances to your apartment, Spencer has his gun. I do not believe Foyet is after you, and after this stunt, my guess is even if he was, he wouldn’t pull his move for a while.”

“What about you?” Spencer asked.

“I’m going to the office,” Hotch said wearily. “There are things to take care of.”

“Need company?” Rossi offered.

Hotch nodded in appreciation.

“I’m staying with you tonight,” Morgan decided, his arm still around Garcia.

“No complaints here,” she said, her face still whiter than usual.

“You’re welcome to stay at my place,” JJ offered to Prentiss. 

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks,” Prentiss smiled grimly.

It seemed that even these tough FBI agents could be rattled, and if they were, then Foyet was an absolute nightmare.

You all parted ways with the usual  _ be careful, _ and  _ take care of yourself _ mantras. Everyone’s tone was ladened with sadness and apprehension. 

As you drove back home, you glanced at the police cars behind and in front of you. Somehow, despite all their guns and flashing lights, you didn’t think they’d be a match for the madman who was loose somewhere out there, watching you.

While you felt scared and apprehensive for yourself, you felt worse for Hotch. For him, this was personal. It was his family who had been targeted, his home that had been broken.

At least you had Spencer to cling to, and cling to him you did. Once you got home, you took a shower together. He held you as the water rushed over both of you. Feeling his warm skin against yours, his lips on your forehead, made the world melt away for a few moments. All too soon you were clean and back in the real world. Every shadow of a passing cloud made you jump, and you kept all the closet doors open, lest Foyet should somehow appear behind one of the closed doors.

You checked out the window to make sure the police were still there. An agent had been assigned to the only entrance to your hallway, and the residents had been advised that someone on the floor was simply under protection, nothing for them to worry about. The only other way in was through the window, and Foyet would have to be some kind of climbing master to reach that.

Sighing, you toweled off, not bothering to put any clothes on. Your whole body felt irritated, as if Foyet had crawled under your skin and made it feel prickly. Anything against your body, save for Spencer, felt uncomfortable. Apparently Spencer felt the same, for he dried himself and slipped into bed next to you, nude. 

You laid on your side to face him. He turned out the light and rolled back over to you, tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

“Are you scared?” he asked quietly. You nodded, not about to lie to him.

“Are you?” you asked.

He bit his lip, considering something. Then he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. 

“What… What does he do?” you asked, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Spencer assured you.

“Would it… hurt?” you asked.

Spencer flinched, probably imagining the scenario you wanted to know about. He took a deep breath and nodded again.

“Yes,” he said. “It probably would.”

You grimaced and nodded, resigning yourself to that knowledge. Part of you felt like if you knew what to expect, it wouldn’t scare you so much. Kind of like a very horrible first day of school.

“Do you think Hotch will be okay? What’s going to happen to Haley and Jack?” you asked.

“They’ll be hidden somewhere safe and given new identities,” Spencer said. “Foyet won’t be able to reach them.”

“Neither will Hotch,” you frowned. 

“No,” Spencer agreed.

“At least we get to stay together,” you said.

Spencer pushed himself forward, closer to you. He leaned his forehead against yours.

“Always,” he promised. “I will not let anyone take you away from me.”

You sighed and smiled. Of course it was impossible to make such promises.

“In the unlikely event that someone does,” you began slowly, carefully. “I would want you to be happy,” you said. 

While you thought he would object, as he had when you had tried to tell him this before you had set the trap for James Romanski, he listened.

“I would want you to find a way to be at peace, and to find someone else who would make you happy,” you said.    
You knew it would be impossible for you to accept these words from him, but you had to make yourself say them, to let him know that if something happened, he could get through it, and he could be happy again.

“I don’t think there is anyone else,” he said.

“Can you promise me you’d try?” you asked.

There was a moment of silence and then, “No.”

“No?” you asked.

“Correct,” he said, pulling his face away from yours to see you better.

“You can’t promise me that you’d try to be happy after my… If something happened?”

He shook his head. 

“Can  _ you _ promise  _ me _ ?” he asked.

You bit your lip, imagining a life without him. You would have  _ tried _ … But you doubted you’d ever be whole again. Your hesitation was enough for his small victory. 

“I guess we’ll both have to survive then,” you muttered, half in jest, half in seriousness. 

“I guess so,” he said, pressing his lips to your forehead.

There was a moment of silence again as you both contemplated the near future.

“I love you,” he whispered. 

You closed your eyes, trying not to let them tear up at the softness and tense desperation of his voice.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

You held each other in the dark, bodies pressed against each other, and breathed. You focused on him and tried not to think about the man lurking in the city, wanting nothing more than to cause you pain. You felt his hand settle into yours, and found strength in it. As long as you were together, Foyet could not touch you.


	25. Chapter 25

The start of the week felt like you suddenly had a new job. Getting ready with Spencer in the morning, you packed your laptop, a few books, and, at his request, a “go bag” with essentials you would need should the team be called away on a case. It felt strange getting ready beside Spencer. Your job had never involved travel, and you almost always worked from home. It was strange to be going into an office again. You didn’t have any professional clothes, but you tried your best to look nice and not stick out too much among the others in nicer garb.

While you usually kissed Spencer before he left for work, this time, you followed him out the door and into your car. Driving to the bureau, you wondered what the team would be like on the job. Garcia wouldn’t be coming, as she would work remotely, but the rest of the team would be there. You knew that it would be a serious occasion, but you were a little excited to see how they worked together and profiled people.

You parked the car and walked in with Spencer. You stopped by the security station to pick up a temporary badge Hotch had acquired for you. It had the FBI seal on it’s plastic front with the word “consultant” written across the top. Although you really weren’t consulting, it felt sort of nice to have this little window into the team’s life.

Walking into the elevator, you saw Morgan jog to make it in before the doors closed. 

“Morning,” he greeted the two of you. “How’s everyone this morning?”

“Fine, how are you?” you responded.

“Oh, just pleased to have Mrs. Brainiac along for the ride,” he grinned.

You blushed and smiled.

The doors opened onto the now familiar bullpen. Agents already flooded the area, hard at work. You followed Morgan through the glass doors, Spencer trailing behind you, tethered to you by his hand in yours. 

JJ stood on the upper level and watched as the three of you walked in. 

“They’re in the conference room,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of the team.

“Should I just… wait out here somewhere?” you asked, not wanting to be in the way.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Spencer said, quietly but decidedly.

He took the lead as he walked into the conference room. The rest of the team sat around the large oval table. There were only enough chairs for the team members around the table, but Spencer pulled an extra from the corner of the room right up next to him.

Settling down, you exchanged nods and unspoken greetings with the team members. Garcia waved from her place on the large screen at the head of the room.

JJ walked to the front with a clicker and pointed it at the screen. A picture popped up, of what you first thought was a very large doll. You caught your breath as you realized it was a human being, murdered, and posed.

“Rita Stuart, twenty-five, second victim in Atlantic City,” JJ said grimly.

“That’s a pretty public dump site,” Prentiss observed. 

“If you could qualify this as a dump,” Spencer added. “The care the unsub takes in placing these women… The almost perfect state of dress… The unsub cares about these women.”

You watched him as he spoke. His gaze didn’t drift to yours, instead, he was focused on the woman on the screen, his eyes narrowed and his mind clearly racing.

“Definitely a lot of remorse,” Rossi agreed.

“Who is victim number one?” Spencer asked.

“Stacia Jackson, Twenty-nine,” JJ said, pointing her clicker at the screen to pull up another girl. This one was African American.

“Well that’s a change in type,” Prentiss remarked.

“Any connection between the victims?” Morgan asked, tapping his pen against his lip.

“None, my sweet angel,” Garcia responded through the speakers. 

“Any evidence of sexual assault?” Spencer asked.

You tried not to cringe at how routine those words sounded coming off of his lips.

“There was no evidence of violence of any kind,” Garcia informed them.

“So how did they die?” Morgan asked.

“Rita had a stroke, Stacia had a brain hemorrhage,” Garcia answered. 

Spencer opened the file laid before him and flipped through, quickly scanning paragraphs for information.

“Look at this, the unsub gave them a battery of drugs: atracurium, doxacurium. These are neural inhibitors. They block signals from the brain to the muscles,” he said.

Part of you tingled when he said this. Sometimes you forgot how smart he was, and how easily it came to him to relay complex science.

“He put them in medical comas for two months,” Rossi marveled. 

“Actually, they weren't in a coma, Spencer corrected. “You'd need phenobarbital to keep them unconscious, and they didn't have that.”

“So, wait a minute,” JJ said, holding up her hand. “These victims were paralyzed but they were still conscious?”

Spencer nodded grimly.

“They could open their eyes, hear, probably even feel stimulation. Physical immobility but mental awareness. This unsub wants total domination over them. And he turns their bodies into prisons to do it.”

You shivered, trying your best to hide it from the team.

“Two this quickly means more bodies as soon as the drugs become too much,” Hotch said, glancing around the table. “We’re going to New Jersey. Wheels up in thirty.”

Apparently this was a dismissal, for the team rose almost in unison. You followed once you knew this meant to leave, and turned to Spencer.

“Grab your bag,” he said softly. You took the bag you’d brought and saw him clutch his.

You were led outside to where a shining white jet waited. Any other time, you would have been excited to fly in such luxury, but your destination was grim at best. You boarded behind everyone else. The team had taken what appeared to be their habitual places, five of which were armchair-like seats. Spencer led you to the loveseat near the back. You sat on the cushion, but he perched on the armrest. 

Once everyone was settled, Prentiss set up a laptop and Garcia appeared on the screen. The files that everyone had carried from the conference room to the plane were now open. They studied them for a moment before Rossi spoke.

“Keeping these women paralyzed reads as sadism,” he said.

“But the care taken with their makeup, hair, and dress, not to mention the posing, opposes all of that,” Prentiss contended.

“Not only that, but they were taken care of during their paralysis. No bed sores, no malnutrition,” Hotch noted. “He took care of them.”

“Are we sure it’s a he?” Spencer asked.

“What changes if the unsub is a woman?” Morgan asked.

“Nothing,” Spencer said. “If anything, it fits better.”

“I would say yes to the lady theory,” Garcia said from the screen. “Seems more likely a lady unsub knew how to sew custom dresses in New Jersey,” she added.

“How custom?” Hotch asked.

“Like a hundred percent, sir,” she answered. “And like really good, lots of practice.”

“That might be a way to help track her down,” Prentiss noted.

The team nodded.

“Okay, when we land, Reid and I will go to the morgue, JJ and Prentiss go talk to the most recent victim’s family, see if there’s anything we can use to connect these women. Morgan and Rossi go to the station, start setting up and going over victimology.” Hotch paused before he turned his attention to you. “I’ll put you with Rossi and Morgan, you can set up at the police station?” he asked.

“Sounds good,” you said, giving him a thumbs up. 

You thought of finding some far off nook of the police department. You didn’t want to be in their way. Spencer tensed beside you and Hotch noticed this.

“She’ll be fine, Reid,” Hotch assured him with a small amount of amusement. “Rossi and Morgan will be with her the whole time.”

Spencer nodded, but still seemed reluctant, glancing at you with his brows pulled together in concern.

“I got her, kid,” Morgan said.

Spencer nodded again, sliding down from his perch on the arm of the chair to sit closer to you. You put your hand on his arm, trying to assure him that you would be perfectly safe with two armed men who cared for you. The team looked at you, and for a moment, you took in all of their faces. They all looked lovingly at the two of you, protectively even.

It wasn’t long before you landed, and you stepped out into the morning air. The weather had just started to change, and the humidity had left in favor of cooler winds.

A fleet of police cars were waiting, and they carried you to a hotel to drop off your belongings quickly before heading off in separate ways to fulfill Hotch’s directions. Spencer kissed you chastely before Hotch essentially dragged him away to another car.

You rode in a large SUV with Rossi, Morgan, and Detective Cotrone. It wasn’t far to the station, and soon you were inside, following the three men through the busy building. A room on the far end of the building was reserved for a large cork board full of information about the victims. The women hanging up on that board were gone, but their pictures, not of their deaths, but their driver’s licenses or the like, were smiling and alive.

You took a deep breath, trying not to think too much about how much these women reminded you of yourself, and how easily it could have been your face smiling up on that board.

Rossi and Det. Cotrone walked up to the board and began discussing the case while Morgan stayed behind to talk to you.

“It’s up to you what you want to do,” Morgan said softly. “You’re welcome to sit in on this stuff, or you can go somewhere and plug in some headphones.”

You glanced over at the board, feeling an emotional connection somehow to these girls. You cared about them, and you didn’t want any other women to have to suffer the same fate. The thought of listening to music or watching a movie just didn’t seem right to you in that moment. You couldn’t focus on anything.

“If it’s okay, I’d like to listen,” you said.

Morgan nodded, understanding what you were feeling without you having to spell it out for him.

“Okay,” he said, gesturing to a chair by the cork board.

You walked over and took the seat, trying not to stare at the dead women too much. Morgan stood behind your chair, peering at the board.

“They’re both placed in locations symbolizing childhood,” Rossi noted. “A carousel, a park.”

“She’d need a big car to be able to move the bodies,” Morgan noted.

“Even though these women are petite, they’re still dead weight,” Rossi shook his head.

“What about a wheelchair?” you suggested, thinking of how you’d do it if you were this woman.

“That would make sense,” Rossi agreed. “She’d risk getting caught if she wasn’t quick. You don’t drag or carry a heavy body quickly.”

“So we’re looking for a van with handicap accommodations,” Morgan said, whipping out his phone.

Rossi nodded and Morgan left the room to talk to Garcia. Det. Cotrone followed him out to speak to an officer in the main room of the station.

Rossi sat down and look at you with a fatherly affection.

“How you doin’, kid?” he asked.

You sighed, nervously picking at your nails.

“I’m alright,” you muttered. Surely there were more pressing matters than how you were feeling.

“I know it’s hard, but we’ll catch Foyet, and then you won’t have to be around all this,” he said, waving vaguely at the board. “And you’ll be safe.”

“Mhm,” you agreed noncommittally.

“What else is bothering you?” Rossi asked.

You couldn’t handle the amount of concern that crossed his features. It was truly as though you were his own daughter who would not open up to him.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, looking up at the board. “I’m still alive, and not in immediate danger.”

Rossi frowned and looked at the board too.

“I know it’s hard to see victims so young,” he remarked. “You identify with them.”

You nodded, again realizing how similar you looked to these women.

“Empathy is a good thing,” Rossi said, smiling softly.

“I know,” you mumbled.

“He’s lucky, you know,” he said. “Spencer, I mean.” You smiled faintly. “There’s a lot of dark places you have to go for this job, and you have to have someone to help pull you out.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I wish you guys didn’t have to do this… That this job wasn’t necessary.”

“Don’t we all,” Rossi sighed as Morgan walked back in.

“Nothing on the car, but Garcia said there was a woman abducted that fits the victim’s profiles. She was taken at a clothing store,” Morgan said grimly.

“So she has another one,” Rossi said, eyes falling back on the board.

You listened as the two agents and Det. Cotrone discussed the case for the next hour. They didn’t seem to be able to get anywhere, other than trying to build on the profile they already had. What they really needed, you realized, was another victim; something to pull a few loose strings together. You hoped that the other team members were having more luck, so that wouldn’t be necessary.

Spencer and Hotch returned first, coming in to report about what they learned at the morgue. You rose to hug Spencer who seemed very anxious to cross the room to get to you. Once you had embraced, you felt the eyes of the team on you. They weren’t impatient, more respectful and even admiring. When you parted, Spencer slipped his hand into yours before he began to speak.

“The latest victim had a wig sewn onto her scalp,” he relayed.

“She’s delving deeper into her fantasy, making it more exact,” Hotch added.

“We also learned that death isn’t the objective here, it’s merely a byproduct of inactivity of the brain on those paralyzing chemicals,” Spencer said.

“So sadism is definitely out,” Morgan commented.

“It’s obsessional,” Hotch confirmed. “She’s collecting them.”

“Those girls remind me of dolls I used to have as a kid,” you muttered, more to yourself than the team. When you saw you had their attention, you added, “I just mean the hair, the dress… All of it kind of looks like nicer dolls that girls pine for.”

Spencer shared a look with Hotch and nodded.

Prentiss and JJ entered the room, then, and relayed that they hadn’t gained much from the parents. The girls didn’t have anything in common in terms of where they shopped. The team decided the unsub was picking women for their body types alone in order to match her obsession. Once all the pieces of the profile had come together, they decided to relay it to the police force. You stood to the side, watching the team as they stood in front of the police officers. You felt so out of place here, you just curled into yourself and tried not to get in anyone’s way. 

Spencer had his attention on the team and the police officers, confidently adding pieces of the profile when he needed to. This was his element, and you were never more sure of it. 

They informed the officers of the woman they should be looking for, what kind of car she drove, and how she would react to different apprehensions should they come upon her.

After they had finished giving the profile, one of the female officers raised her hand.

“What color was the latest abductee’s hair?”

“Blonde,” Det. Cotrone answered.

“Sir, there’s a line of dolls that was discontinued when I was a kid. They had three different models, two white girls with red and blonde hair, and one African American girl.”

She had just described the three women that had been taken.

“She’s collecting the set,” Hotch observed. “She’s already discarded two which means she might already have two others that we don’t know about. Morgan, have Garcia widen the search with the new parameters of victimology, and check on the history of the company.”

Morgan got on the phone and left the room.

Once the officers had finished asking questions, they spread out, some to their computers and some to the streets to look for leads. Spencer walked quietly over to you and stood by you.

He was about to say something when Morgan came back into the room. The team gathered around him, anxious to see what Garcia had dug up. His face told you it was nothing good.

“Garcia says the company held a contest for young girls to make the next doll. They had to send in an outfit and a story. Once the letters started coming, a pattern emerged.” His eyes were ladened with sadness. “Veiled mentions to physical and sexual abuse,” he said. 

“I imagine that campaign ended quickly,” JJ observed. Morgan nodded.

“Do they still have the letters and dresses?” Prentiss asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Garcia’s having them sent over right away.”

While you waited for the letters and dresses to arrive, you sat with Spencer.

“How’re you doing?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” you promised. “Just focus on saving those women.”

He nodded, looking up at the pictures of women.

“These girls remind me of you,” he whispered, eyes on the ground.

You sighed and glanced at the pictures again. 

“You won’t be a picture up there, ever. I promise,” he said quietly. “We’ll catch Foyet.”

“I know,” you breathed.

Just then, a few police officers came into the station with boxes. Inside were letters in plastic bags and various dolls. Lots of dolls.

They proceeded to Prentiss where she sat a desk, beckoning them over.

“There’s a lot to go through,” she noted as the team gathered around the table.

“Let’s look for anything that mentions sexual abuse and a strong attachment to the dolls,” Hotch said. “Not just common adoration, something that points to the obsessive nature that she’s exhibiting now.”

The team nodded. The piles of letters and dolls seemed endless. You stood, seemingly frozen at the amount of abuse those letters most likely contained. Spencer took a large pile and walked quickly over to a desk to start reading the letters.

The rest of the team followed suit, but Morgan stared at you. He must have seen the dread on your face. You weren’t required to read any of the letters, you weren’t a profiler after all, but you knew that if the program had been shut down, there was a reason, and that reason was a horrific amount of veiled abuse allegations.

“Hey,” Morgan said softly. “Come here.”

He nodded with his head towards the small kitchenette in the back of the station. You followed, your mouth dry. He poured you a cup of coffee and handed it over. Taking a sip, you sighed.

“I know it looks like a pile of really bad stuff over there, but that’s going to lead us to our unsub,” he promised.

“I know,” you admitted. “It’s just… All those kids… That’s a lot of abuse.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes full of warmth. “But not everyone who suffers abuse turns into a serial killer. Some of us turn into FBI agents,” he said softly.

You were staring at your cup when he said this, and it took a minute for it to sink in. Slowly, you drew your attention upwards toward him. His eyes were tired, but patient. You wanted to say something, but you had no idea what.

“My community football coach,” he explained, looking right at you. He showed no sign of embarrassment or shame. “It haunted me for a long time,” he sighed. “But it didn’t destroy me.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He shrugged, not indifferently, but rather with an air of acceptance. 

“It’s part of who I am,” he said. “And part of why I do this.”

You were starting to realize between Morgan’s abuse and Spencer’s childhood trauma with Riley, that the whole team must have backgrounds and reasons for doing this job that you had yet to discover. You hoped all of them weren’t this sad. Still, you felt extremely proud that Morgan felt close enough to you to share this information. You shared a moment with him with no words, an unspoken agreement that you two were now and forever bonded by the vulnerability he had shown you.

You placed your coffee down on the counter and stepped towards Morgan, placing your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. You breathed and just hugged him as he hugged you back. If Morgan could go through something so awful and survive, perhaps there was some hope for the poor kids who had written those letters.

“Hey guys,” you heard Spencer’s voice from across the room. “I think I’ve got something.”

You released yourself from Morgan’s arms and turned, looking at Spencer who had rushed over to where Prentis was sitting. He handed her the doll that had come with the letter, and the team followed to where they stood.

Spencer pulled out his phone and called Garcia, giving her the name that was on the letter, Samantha Malcolm. While she searched, Spencer read aloud.

“Sally doesn’t like the room with the lightning,” he said.

“The room with the lightning?” JJ asked.

“Ok, guys, I just got Samantha Malcolm's medical records,” Garcia said over the phone. “And... Oh, my god, she was doomed. Like Emily Bronte doomed, like Shakespeare doomed, like red-shirted ensign in "Star Trek" doomed,” Garcia said with immense stress.

“Garcia, what happened to her?” Hotch asked sternly.

“Oh, sorry, uh, well, for the first ten years, nothing, And then she started a battery of electroshock treatments.”

“At ten? Who subjects a child to ECT?” Spencer asked, disgusted.

“That would be her father, Dr. Arthur Malcolm,” Garcia informed. “When questions were raised because of the letter, he said it was because of the loss of her mother, and that it was treatement for her grief.”

“There are literally hundreds of therapies to help kids through loss. Electroshock is not one of them,” Spencer said angrily. 

You didn’t doubt that this was true, but you still wondered why Spencer, more than any of the other team members, was the most upset. Perhaps he had a soft spot for kids, especially after what happened to Riley.

“Garcia, where is she?” Hotch asked urgently. You heard the sound of Garcia typing before she answered.

“Her father declared her incompetent so he’s still her legal guardian, but she does live in a house owned by him. The address is sending to your phones.”

Morgan looked like he was about to sprint out of the room, but Hotch’s voice stopped him.

“We have to be careful about how we go about this,” he said.

“Why? She’s not armed,” Morgan pointed out.

“No, but she has them on a careful balance of drugs. She might inject them with lethal doses or even just an air bubble if she feels like we’re taking away her collection,” Hotch answered.

“So we’d, what, have to give her something in return?” Prentiss asked.

Spencer looked at you for a moment before speaking.

“We would make her think she was getting something,” he said, almost to himself.

The team stared at you as Spencer walked over to the board and pulled off one of the pictures of the original dolls from the set. He held the doll’s picture up next to you.

“You aren’t suggesting…” JJ trailed off.

“We offer to trade me,” you said.


	26. Chapter 26

You saw the eyes of every team member and some of the nearby police officers go between the doll’s picture and yourself. While you weren’t wearing a dress, your features and hair did look remarkably like the doll’s. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Spencer said.

“I know,” you answered.

He looked utterly conflicted. On the one hand, he never wanted you in harms way, no matter how non-violent the offender might be. On the other hand, he had known a child who had suffered the abuse that this woman had too, and he had been unable to save him.

“It could work,” Morgan was the first to agree. “She’s not killing these women by choice, it’s just a byproduct of her psychosis. She wouldn’t actively try to hurt you.”

“You’d go in with two armed agents,” Hotch said.

Spencer nodded. “She wouldn’t touch you,” he promised.

“If we bring her in, and pretend to exchange her for the dolls, she’s gotta have something they don’t,” Morgan pointed out. “She won’t trade the work she’s put into this for just one doll.”

“I think I can help with that,” Spencer said. “We can use her letter. (Y/N) can tell her that she knows about the lightning room, and promise that she’ll never have to go there or anywhere with her father ever again. The other girls didn’t know that, and were too drugged to offer anything.”

“She’s no doubt afraid of her father,” Morgan nodded. “She silenced the other women because they would ask to leave her, or beg for mercy, but she just wanted compliant companions. If we put her in there with some set phrases to use, it might work.”

“Plus, you’ll be there for backup,” JJ pointed out.

“Are you up for it?” Hotch asked.

You thought back to a few months ago when you willingly put yourself in front of a gun for Morgan, and nodded. Comparatively, this seemed like a walk in the park.

“We’re going to need a dress,” Spencer said, looking at the doll. 

“And some makeup,” JJ added, reaching into her purse.

“Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi, head to the nearest store, find the closest thing you can to that dress,” Hotch said. “JJ, start with the hair and makeup. Spencer and I will go over what to say.”

Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi, left hastily to go and find you a dress. JJ motioned for you to have a seat as she sifted through her makeup in her bag. As you took a seat, Hotch grabbed a file and Spencer knelt down next to you.

“Okay, we know that she was abused by her father, and that he used electroshock therapy to try to keep her quiet. She lost her mother, so she’s vulnerable in that area, I’d stay away from that,” Hotch said.

You didn’t feel particularly nervous. Although you were going into a serial killer’s den, it wasn’t like other times. This monster wasn’t really a monster at all, rather, a lonely girl who’d been hurt worse than you could imagine.

“I’m going with her in there,” Spencer said. “I can help with the talking.”

Hotch nodded.

“Maybe you should do all the talking,” you suggested. Spencer shook his head.

“Most of it has to come from you.”

“But not all of it,” Hotch said. “While she has to appear as a compliant doll, she also needs to hear things you might be able to intuit on the spot. Morgan will be a backup should she, for some reason, become violent or frantic. I think you two should both be able to interact with her. Remember, she just wants a companion to help her get through all the emotions she’s been conditioned to forget. She wants safety and stability.”

You nodded as JJ started applying your makeup. Spencer held your hand as she quickly emulated the slight makeup of the doll.

As the police readied themselves to follow you to Samantha’s home, the rest of the team returned with a dress. It wasn’t exactly the right style, but it was definitely close. You took the dress and went into one of the bathrooms to change. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw the striking resemblance to the doll. You took a moment to breathe, thinking of the woman who was so hurt and damaged that she was driven to do this. Hopefully, this would be her opportunity to get help.

Coming out of the bathroom, the team waited with expectant stares. They seemed to relax a little when you came out, and Spencer walked over to you, taking your hand.

“Ready?” Hotch asked. You nodded.

Following Spencer into a police car, you drove for about thirty minutes to a small house, separated from the rest by heavy woods. You held Spencer’s hand the whole time, gazing out of the window and trying to think of what you could say to this woman to help her, and her victims.

When you got close to the house, the car parked a ways away so as not to alert her to their presence. You walked with Spencer down the road, still holding his hand, Morgan trailing behind you.

As you approached the house, Spencer tested the doorknob. It moved, and he opened the door to the house. It wasn’t particularly personal. It seemed like whoever had put the standard furniture and paintings in had had the only effect on the house.

Walking cautiously through the house, following closely behind Spencer and Morgan, you followed the sound of a woman’s voice. It was soft, kind. You reached a door in the back of the house, and Spencer opened it carefully. Inside sat three women, each with similar dress and hairstyles as you. This room, unlike the rest of the house, was cultivated. The wallpaper was flowery, accents of pink sticking out from the white background. There were white curtains, a white table, and an expensive-looking tea set. The women sitting around the table were frozen, IV bags linked to their arms, and their heads supported by pillows.

Samantha, the only woman standing and not in a dress, stood frozen too, in the middle of pouring tea out the matching teapot.

“Uh, hi,” Spencer said sheepishly. “My name's Spencer. I'm with the FBI.”

Samantha put down the teapot slowly and stood next to one of the women. Her eyes flickered to you, and she gasped softly.

“I know what your father did to you, and I want you to know that he can never, ever hurt you again,” he went on.

She blinked, turning her attention back to him with some difficulty.

“He never touched me. He's a good father. He loves me,” she answered robotically.

Spencer frowned and you felt your heart sink.

“I know that he probably forced you to say those things, and he punished you if you got it wrong, sent you to the room with the lightning,” he continued, cautiously.

She nodded, fear in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she managed to say. Her gaze returned to you, and she tilted her head to the side, looking at you as if she’s just discovered her childhood friend.

“The dolls that your father gave you after he hurt you, what would happen to them?” Spencer asked. She answered him, but didn’t take her eyes off you.

“He kept them in his office with the other toys,” she answered. “But when I moved out, I had to take my friends with me.”

“So you went to get them?” Spencer guessed. 

She nodded, her lip quivering.

“But he’d… given them to another girl,” she said, tears finally spilling out.

“So you had to find new friends,” Spencer guessed.

You took a step forward instinctively, and held out your hand.

“I’m sorry for what your father did to you,” you said.

She walked slowly over to you and took your hand.

“You’re so perfect,” she said, her eyes still wet.

You smiled at her, but couldn’t stop the sadness in your eyes. She didn’t seem to notice, as she inspected your features and dress.

“Samantha, will you come with us?” Spencer asked.

She glanced at him, pulling her attention away from you for a moment.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “I can’t leave my other friends behind.”

“I know,” Spencer said gently. “But this new friend wants you to come with us. We can come back for your other friends.”

“Please,” you said. “Come with me.”

You felt sorry for her. While you weren’t promising to be her friend forever, it still felt like you were making her a promise you couldn’t keep. Still, this would get her the help she needed.

After some consideration, and more adoring staring at your face and dress, she nodded.

“Okay,” she said.

Part of you wondered if she knew this wasn’t real.

With Morgan, you led her towards the front door as the team had planned, while Spencer unhooked the IV’s from the women’s arms once you were out of the room. Morgan took her arm as they came to the front door. She didn’t resist.

“Come on, this way, Samantha,” he said softly. 

She looked at him and then back at you. You nodded encouragingly at her, and she acquiesced, following Morgan into a police car. She went so easily, you had to think she knew what was happening, and that she might even be relieved that it was all over.

You returned to the room with the women who were slowly recovering. Spencer knelt next to one who was thanking him. In that moment, once again, you saw the reason that he had to do this job. When he heard you, he turned, standing up as the EMT’s entered the room to care for the women. He took your hand and led you outside. 

“This was probably the most peaceful apprehension you’ve had, huh?” you guessed.

His lips pulled into a tight line and he nodded.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m sorry you keep getting pulled into this,” he lamented. “I didn’t even really ask you.”

You shook your head.

“You didn’t have to,” you said. “I would do anything for you, for the team.”

He sighed and turned to you. You’d reached the end of the driveway, standing together as policemen and technicians ran around you. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him gently.

“You can’t go in there,” you heard Hotch’s stern voice reprimanding someone.

You and Spencer turned to see a man standing on the edge of the property.

“She’s my daughter,” he insisted, trying to push past Hotch as the car holding Samantha pulled away.

You felt heat flush your cheeks and anger seep into you. This was the man who had ruined a young girl’s life.

Before you realized it, your feet were taking you over to the man. Spencer caught your arm gently and pulled you back before you could slap the man like you had wanted to. Instead, you stood a few feet away from him as he gazed at you dumbly.

“You’re a monster,” you spat at him.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he said, unconvincingly.

You were about to hurl more insults at him, but Spencer spoke first.

“Why’d you give Samantha those dolls?” he asked. His tone implied he already knew the answer.

“What?” he asked.

“The dolls,” Spencer repeated with emphasis. “I know why, actually. Guilt. Because that's what serial molesters do. They give gifts.” The anger in his voice was palpable.

“I’m not a--”

“My guess is you did this with all of your patients,” Spencer went on, seeming to be encouraged by an idea. “And I would bet, if we found your past patients and asked them to show us the gifts you had given them, their reactions alone would condemn you. You couldn’t use electroshock therapy on all of them. Not all of them will remain silent,” Spencer said.

Samantha’s father was silent and pale. He swallowed and adjusted his glasses. You felt a strange pride for Spencer. While intimidating someone was not usually on your list of qualifications for a boyfriend, intimidating this man seemed only just.

“Let’s go,” Hotch said, pushing the man slightly ahead of him.

You evened your breathing as you watched the man leave. Spencer’s hands found your shoulders and rested there as he kissed the top of your head.

“I hope he goes away for a long long time,” you muttered.

“He will,” Spencer promised. 

It was strange that he now seemed so calm. If you hadn’t been here, you doubted whether or not you would believe an account of the anger and spite you’d heard in his voice. Still, the passion he had exhibited in protecting such a victim was comforting.

“Heading back to the station?” a policeman asked you.

You nodded and followed him to his car. He drove the two of you back where the team was waiting. Everyone looked tired, and, despite the victory of saving three lives, not exactly happy. It was hard to feel any joy when you knew the life that had been forever changed by the one man Samantha should have been able to trust, had been wasted. She could have grown up to be a normal, happy, girl, but instead her fate was changed by her disgusting father.

Still, the only silver lining was that she would be able to get some help, and her father would be heading to prison.

You didn’t stay too long after Samantha was apprehended. You changed back into your clothes, washed off your makeup, and headed back to the jet with the team.

Once in the air, the team settled into their seats. Some slept while others wore headphones. Spencer fell asleep almost instantly on the couch. You covered him with a blanket and kissed his forehead, rising to get some coffee from the small counter in the back of the jet.

You found Hotch had had the same idea, and poured him a cup before filling yours.

“Thank you for all your help,” he said quietly. 

“Glad to do it,” you said. “I’m just glad it ended as well as it could have.”

He nodded and sighed almost imperceptibly. There was a weight on his shoulders, and in his eyes you saw pure exhaustion and near hopelessness hidden carefully by his furrowed brows.

“Hey,” you whispered, laying a hand gently on his arm. “You guys will find Foyet, and you’ll see your family again really soon,” you promised.

“I know,” he answered, not convincingly.

“And in the meantime… If you ever want to talk about anything… I mean I don’t have a kid or anything but, I can listen,” you offered.

He tilted his head to the side just enough to look at you with a new perspective. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. He glanced over at Spencer who was snoring softly. “Well, at least the two of you get to stay together during this,” he said. “That’s a small victory.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Beats saying goodbye.”

Hotch considered this for a moment, his gaze still upon Spencer.

“He would leave, you know,” he said. “If you asked him to.”

You sighed and smiled softly.

“I know,” you said.

“I think that’s the difference between us,” he said, sounding as if he were confessing something very secret. “He would leave… I wouldn’t.”

You saw the pain in his features and sighed. He cared  _ so much _ .

“You care about saving people,” you said.

He shook his head.

“There are others who could do this job,” he muttered.

“Not as well as you,” you said. You looked around at the team who had successfully profiled this unsub and saved three lives. “I see the way you lead this team. They need you.”

“So does my family,” he said, not meeting your gaze.

You couldn’t argue with that, and were at a loss for what to say.

“I think it’s important that Reid would leave this job for you,” he said. “It’s all he’s really known, and to leave that behind for you… It takes a lot of love for something like that.”

You could tell from the way he said it, that he knew from experience. You were sure he hadn’t stayed at his job because he didn’t love his family as much as Spencer loved you, but you could see his point. The bond the two of you shared surpassed any other want or need in both your lives.

You sipped from your cup, and Hotch from his, both of you looking at your tired team. 

“We’re lucky,” you said quietly. “Most people only get one family.”

You were surprised to see a small, genuine smile on his features. He nodded, laid a hand gently on your shoulder, and went to take his seat next to Rossi.

You watched him for a moment before sliding onto the couch next to Spencer. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered as you saw his sleepy eyes blink open.

He didn’t say anything, rather, he took you in his arms and you laid down, snuggling into him on the couch. You closed your eyes and fell asleep until the plane landed.

“Hey, cuddle buddies, time to wake up,” you heard Morgan said.

Fluttering your eyes open, you realized you had landed, and the rest of the team had left the plane. Spencer groaned and moved to sit up. You followed suit.

Morgan offered you his hand and you took it stand up, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. Spencer stood up and blinked sleepily too.

“Couple of toddlers waking up from a nap,” Morgan grinned. “Come on, kids.”

He led you off the plane and back into the FBI. After waiting for Spencer to help close out the case, you were allowed to go home, followed, of course, by your police escort. After apprehending one serial killer, you had almost forgotten there was another one on your trail.

Closing the door to your apartment behind the two of you, you tried to shut out the outside world. Spencer let out a long breath and flopped onto the couch. You walked to the kitchen and got chocolate chip cookie. Walking over to where he was sitting, you hid the cookie behind your back.

“Close your eyes,” you requested. Without question, he did so. “Now, open your mouth.” Again he acquiesced. 

You gently fed him the cookie, and saw him smile once he realized what it was. He laughed and opened his eyes to see you smiling. While he chewed and swallowed, you handed him the other half of the cookie. He ate it and smiled. 

“Close your eyes,” you said again. He chuckled and did so.

This time, you kissed him, settling onto his lap and pulling yourself away from his lips only when you felt satisfied. He hummed in contentment and opened his eyes to look at you again.

“You’re incredible, do you know that?” you asked. 

He cocked his head, confused as to why you’d be complimenting him for eating a cookie.

“With Samantha, I mean,” you said. “How passionate you are about children is really something. Not everyone would have been able to summon that much emotion for a serial killer. Not to mention how you were with her father. I thought I was going to punch him.. But somehow your words were better than my fists.”

“No one should have to go through that as a child. Or ever,” he said. You nodded.

“I’m just always in awe of your inclination to protect children, and people,” you said.

“I’m not sure where it came from,” he admitted. “Riley, I would think.”

“Mmm,” you agreed. “In any case, it’s one of many reasons why I love you.”

He smiled softly and looked at you. You slid down to lay your head against the arm of the couch, looking up at him dreamily. He slid a few fingers across your forehead, clearing it of loose strands of hair. This made you realize how sleepy you were. 

“I think you’ll be a great father someday,” you said, almost to yourself.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he blushed.

“I do,” you promised. 

He shook his head slightly, not in disbelief, but in awe of something.

“How do you have such unending faith in me?” he asked.

“It’s easy,” you smiled. 

“I’ve never even held a baby,” he laughed.

“I would imagine it’s like holding a football,” you said.

“Never held one of those either,” he chuckled. You laughed.

“Promise me something?” you asked. 

“Anything,” he smiled.

“When we have kids, promise we won’t name them weird hipster names?”

He bit his lip as he smiled, and it was then that you realized you’d said  _ when _ and not  _ if. _ He didn’t seem surprised or in objection to this, however, and instead brushed his hand against your cheek.

“I promise,” he whispered.

You blushed as you smiled. 

“Good,” you said. 

There was a moment of silence as you considered what it’d be like to have a child with Spencer. Having kids had not been the top thing on your list of life goals, and it still wasn’t. At least, not yet. But for the first time, you could see yourself happy with children, so long as you and Spencer raised them together.

You yawned, interrupting whatever thoughts Spencer was having as he gazed out the window. He chuckled and looked down at you.

“Bed time?” he asked.

You nodded. You got up with a good amount of effort, and reached your hand back for Spencer. He took it in his and you led the two of you to the bedroom for a good night’s sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

Another month passed without anything particularly eventful happening. You were still escorted everywhere by armed officers, and you still accompanied the team on cases, although you were not as directly involved. You would sit in on the profiles, but your participation in apprehending the suspects was not needed in this time.

You were sad to see the opening of the planetarium come and go without your ability to attend it, but the special moments you shared with Spencer alone there were more meaningful than anything you could have asked of the public gathering.

You managed to sell and donate the rest of your belongings and finished out your six month lease. Handing your keys to your landlord, he smiled when you told him you weren’t leaving the building, just that apartment.

It felt like so much time had passed between now and Foyet’s threatening phone call. No doubt Hotch felt the passage of time, as he wasn’t allowed any contact with his family, but you were lucky enough to have Spencer beside you. Still, it almost felt like he had forgotten you. Perhaps this was what he wanted, for you to let your guard down. Whenever you realized this, you would immediately tense up and look around, as if he could read your thoughts and had come at last to find you.

The weather cooled, and before you knew it, October had arrived. You traveled with the team on their cases and saw how stressed they all were. The smiles you brought to their faces when you suggested a Halloween party hosted by you and Spencer was almost better than the actual holiday itself. Obviously, you made costumes mandatory for admittance.

Spencer was pleasantly surprised by this idea, and got really into it. You were dragged, but mostly willingly, to many stores in order to find the perfect decorations and costumes. Of course, you would do a couple’s costume. Spencer had dug out his old horror movies, and you found that he kept coming back to Boris Karloff in Frankenstein. When you suggested that you and he be Frankenstein's monster and his bride, he readily agreed. 

You spared no expense in making your costumes legit. The two of you could have passed for the real thing. While you were inviting the team, JJ asked if she could bring Will, her boyfriend, along since he would be in town. You hurriedly agreed, anxious to meet the mystery man that she'd been flying down to see almost every weekend. 

Luckily, Halloween fell on a Saturday. You prepared all week long, gradually putting up decorations and preparing fun treats when you could after getting home from the FBI every night.

Finally, the weekend arrived, and you spent most of the day Saturday making your final arrangements. Your favorite parts of your party prep were your pumpkin shaped cookies, your Halloween cocktails, your life-sized cutout of Nosferatu, and your chip bowl whose fake hand grabbed at whomever reached in for a snack.

You got ready with Spencer before the guests arrived, making sure your wig would stay on and gluing his neck bolts on with care. Standing together in front of the mirror, the two of you laughed and smiled at your ridiculous enthusiasm.

First to arrive was Wonder Woman, known in her everyday life as Emily Prentiss. She looked flawless with curly hair, fierce makeup, and a tight outfit. You nearly swooned when you saw her, and thought the costume was rather appropriate for such a goddess of a woman.

Welcoming her, you left her to check out the decorations as you answered the door when the next guest knocked. Hotch stood at the door in a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and frameless glasses.

“Glasses are not a costume,” you chided him.

He smirked and reached down to unbutton the upper half of his shirt. Underneath was the Superman emblem. Laughing, you moved to allow him interest. Prentiss laughed when she saw him, and he at her, since neither of them had planned to come as a team.

JJ and Will arrived next, sporting Woody and Jessie outfits from “Toy Story.” JJ introduced you to Will, whose southern accent was rather enthralling. They met and mingled with Hotch and Prentiss. 

Soon after, Rossi arrived. He wore a plain white shirt, a leather jacket, jeans, and sunglasses. When you answered the door, he whipped out a comb and started imitating Danny Zuko with almost scary precision. 

The last knocks came as Morgan and Garcia arrived. Opening the door to see Garcia wearing a sheriff's uniform, and Morgan in an old fashioned black and white striped prison jumpsuit, hands shackled with plastic handcuffs, you couldn’t contain your laughter. Garcia swung the fake keys around her finger as Morgan pretended to look like a criminal.

“Please tell me this was your idea,” you smiled at Garcia. She nodded.

“She just wanted me in handcuffs,” Morgan teased.

“Goddamn right I did,” Garcia winked at him before hugging you.

Morgan greeted you with a peck on the cheek and walked in. You closed the door behind them and turned up the spooky playlist you’d created as the party got going.

While you didn’t have the space to bob for apples, you had a few other party games that kept the lot of you laughing and entertained. You had quite a few cocktails during the party, and so were a little slow on the uptake when JJ called for everyone’s attention.

Turning to see that she and Will were standing a little ways away from everyone else, you stood with the rest of the team as the chatter simmered down.

“We have an announcement” JJ smiled. She turned to Will and then back at to the team. “We’re engaged,” she laughed happily.

It took a moment for everyone to process it, but soon smiles and laughter broke out all around. Spencer was the first to rush to her and pull her tight into a hug. The rest of the team hugged her after, shaking Will’s hand too and congratulating both of them.

“This is amazing!” you cheered as you hugged her.

“We’re really excited,” she smiled. 

You pulled back as Prentiss and Garcia stood beside you.

“And all of you will be maids of honor, I hope?” she asked.

“As if you even needed to ask,” Garcia smiled. 

You and Prentiss nodded in agreement and soon the four of you were bouncing up and down of sheer excitement. The men stood and watched your unbridled merriment. Will, no doubt, had friends of his own down in New Orleans, so he didn’t request the other men to be his groomsmen. They obviously accepted the unofficial invitation to the small gathering that would be their wedding, however, with enthusiasm.

“So, when’s the big day?” Rossi asked, filling up everyone’s cocktails so they could toast. 

“We haven’t decided,” Will answered. “But the sooner the better.”

“Here, here,” Morgan simultaneously toasted and agreed.

Everyone clinked their glasses together, Spencer toasting his glass of water. It felt so good to have such a happy announcement among the sea of dangers and fears posed by Foyet. You wondered what Hotch truly thought about this marriage. Did he believe it was possible to have a happy marriage in this job? Or did he believe their relationship would be as doomed as his seemed to be?

By two in the morning, the lot of you were partied out. Everyone left with copious amounts of thanks to your great hosting, and you were thrilled that not only had everyone had a great time, but also that such a happy announcement had been made. 

You were rather drunk, despite your protestations, and Spencer made you drink a lot of water before he helped you get ready for bed.

Having washed away all the makeup, and slipped out of your wig and dress, you put on a giant shirt to sleep in. Crawling clumsily into bed, you heard Spencer chuckle. He, of course, was completely sober, if not a little sugar high. He undressed to his boxers, having rid himself of his makeup as well, and collapsed on the bed next to you.

“I’m gonna be a bridesmaid,” you giggled.

“I know,” he smirked. 

“I’ll get to wear an ugly dress and help JJ pee in her wedding dress.”

You were a little too excited about both of these duties in your drunken state, but Spencer merely smiled, amused.

“I doubt any dress worn by you could be considered ugly,” he said, moving the covers to tuck you in.

“I doubt she would choose an ugly dress,” you countered. He nodded. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to to think about how the world felt like it was tipping underneath you.

“I wanna get married someday,” you said. You were half asleep at this point, and didn’t open your eyes to see Spencer’s reaction.

“Me too,” he said after a long moment.

“D’ya wanna marry me?” you asked.

He chuckled and made a quiet shushing noise. 

“Of course,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead gently. 

You chuckled and sighed, feeling the drowsiness growing. You knew none of this would be remembered in the morning, but for the moment, you felt very loved and cared for. You rolled over and Spencer held you. The world felt less tumultuous and eventually you fell asleep.

You woke to pain. Your head throbbed like someone had hit you with a hammer. Your mouth was dry and you had a horrible coating on the top of your tongue, making your whole mouth taste sour. You blinked slowly, opening your eyes to the blinding daylight. Groaning, you realized you had drunk way too much the previous evening. You felt behind you to see where Spencer had gone, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Spencer!” you called, feeling too much like death to open your eyes or move.

“In here!” he responded from the living room. You cringed at his voice, despite his relatively normal volume. 

“I think I’m dead,” you said, as you heard his footsteps approaching.

He chuckled and you felt the bed sink slightly as he sat on the edge closest to you.

“A bit hungover?” he guessed. 

You nodded, managing to open your eyes. Despite the slight pain that accompanied it, you found that the sight before you made it worth it. Spencer was simply beautiful this morning, for no other reason than the way he was looking at you. Although you didn’t know why, he seemed to look at you as though you a goddess. 

“Breakfast?” he asked.

You sat up with some assistance from Spencer, and managed not to throw up.

“Sometimes eating helps,” he offered.

“Maybe a bagel,” you answered. 

“Coming right up,” he said, running off to the kitchen.

By the end of your plain breakfast, you had started to feel better. Drinking water helped, but your head was still pounding.

“Do we have any aspirin?” you asked.

Spencer frowned and went to check. Coming back, he shook his head.

“I’m afraid not,” he answered.

Feeling better, at least from the nausea and dizziness, you got dressed, hoping the headache would fade with the rest of your ailments. When it didn’t, you told Spencer you were going to go to the pharmacy.

“I’ll go,” he offered. You shook your head.   
“I got myself into this, I’ll get myself out,” you smiled. “You’ve already been too good to me.”

“Well, let me come with you anyway,” he said.

“What a fun field trip,” you smiled sardonically. 

He laughed and got ready to go. When you made it to the pharmacy, you made a beeline for the pain relief medicine aisle. It was near the over-the-counter section, and you overheard someone trying to fill their prescription.

“Oh, actually, there should be two prescriptions,” the woman said to the pharmacist. 

“We filled the antibiotics, but we're out of the antihistamine,” she lamented.

Taking a tentative step forward, you approached the woman. Spencer stood where he was, wondering what you were doing.

“You know, crushing half a claritin would do the job just the same. Save you a couple bucks, too,” you offered, having been in this situation yourself.

“She’s right,” the pharmacist admitted.

“Thanks,” the woman smiled. 

She left, and you turned around to Spencer who was gaping at you.

“What?” you asked, taking the aspirin out of his frozen hand.

He shook his head quickly and seemed to return to normal from his frozen state. He bypassed you to stand next to the counter.

“Wait, excuse me,” he said to the pharmacist. She had turned around and had to turn back. “Are there a lot of over-the-counter medications that can be substituted for prescriptions?”

She considered this for a moment. 

“Yes,” she answered. “Too many to count.” 

Spencer nodded hastily and pulled out his cellphone.

“What is it?” you asked, glancing around you. 

He seemed so frantic, you thought you might be in danger. How the seemingly innocuous conversation had spurred this excitement, you didn’t know.

“Foyet's meds,” he answered as the phone rang. “We have been tracking the entire combination. What if he's been using over-the-counter meds for some of it to mask his purchases?”

Your blood ran cold at the mention of Foyet’s name, and you stood frozen as Spencer got a hold of Hotch and told him the theory. Once he had relayed this, he only said a few more words before taking your hand and running with you out of the store. You had just accidentally stolen the small bottle of aspirin, but Spencer didn’t seem to care, nor did you set any alarms off. Ironically enough, you were headed towards a police car anyway. The officers who followed you to ensure your safety from Foyet when you were out of the office had become familiar and friendly faces by now. When Spencer knocked on their window and told them to drive with their sirens to the FBI, they didn’t ask any questions. 

Bursting out of the vehicle as it stopped, Spencer rushed you inside and up to the BAU. The team was already in the conference room, Garcia up on the screen and typing furiously.

“There is no substitute for Tapazole,” Garcia was saying as you rushed into the room.

“Print out every person who's on this prescription within sixty miles of both cities he’s sent mail from,” Hotch ordered.

“That’s a hundred and fifty-two names, sir,” she frowned.

“He wouldn’t use his own name,” Spencer objected, nearly breathless from the run up.

“What kind of aliases should we be looking for?” Prentiss asked.

“He could have easily stolen an identity,” JJ pointed out. Hotch shook his head.

“No, he’s a narcissist, in love with his mythology. He’d choose a name that meant something to him,” Hotch said with determination. No one argued.

The room went silent as everyone tried to profile what name they believed he would use.

“Foyet likes things to have meaning to him,” Spencer repeated, processing something. “The Eye of Providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led us back to him. Maybe he's doing the same thing with the alias. Like an anagram or something.”

Thankfully, you had no clue what he was talking about. The details of the case hadn’t been relayed to you, and you were thankful that this was the first time blood-writing had been brought to your attention. It made Foyet even more menacing than he already was.

“What are you thinking, Reid?” Hotch asked, nearly desperately. 

Spencer squinted, wringing his hands together. You could almost hear the neurons firing in his brain like pistons in an engine.

“He named himself The Reaper,” Spencer said slowly, walking over to the board and taking a marker.

He wrote “The Reaper” on the board and began circling letters and drawing arrows. The team waited anxiously, and you felt you couldn’t breathe without his hand in yours.

After what felt like an hour, he stepped away, revealing a name.

“Garcia, check the name Peter Rhea,” he said hurriedly.

“There's a Peter Rhea in Arlington,” she reported.

“We got him,” Rossi said.

It should have felt like a triumphant moment, but all you felt was paralyzing fear. This wasn’t anywhere close to over, and you all knew it.

“Reid and (Y/N), you’re with me, the rest of you go with Rossi. We meet at his address, storm it together.”

The team nodded, their hands instinctively reaching towards their weapons already. You split up, running to the car after grabbing bulletproof vests and a gun for Spencer. The two of you sat in the back seat while Hotch turned on the sirens of the car and flew out into the open road. You had no idea how far away this place was, but whatever it would have usually taken, Hotch was cutting that time at least in half. You couldn’t see the second car, as they had left ahead of you. You were certain you couldn’t be more than a minute behind them. As Hotch drove, swerving in and out of traffic expertly, you clung to Spencer. Your hand was a vice grip on his, turning it white. Your breath caught in your throat every time you realized where it was you were heading. You knew they couldn’t risk leaving you behind, as they didn’t know what Foyet’s plan was. If this was a trap to get you alone without them, it would have worked if they had left you. As it were, having you with them, even if they were heading to Foyet, was the safest option.

About five minutes into the drive, Hotch’s phone rang. He answered without looking at the screen.

“Hotchner,” he answered sternly, putting it on speaker to keep both hands on the wheel as he drove frantically.

“Aaron,” a familiar voice curled into the car like smoke.

You saw Hotch’s face go slack from the rear view mirror. He paled, and nearly hit a car. Regaining some kind of control, he took a breath and stepped on the gas again.

“Foyet,” he answered. 

“Someone wants to talk to you,” Foyet teased. There was a small shuffling sound, and then a female voice spoke.

“Aaron?” she asked, her voice trembling. 

You heard all the air leave Hotch’s lungs and you turned to Spencer whose face was stricken.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked, tenderness seeping in under the bravado.

“I’m fine,” she said. “He said that you were…”

“Haley,” Hotch said. “You cannot show him fear.”

“I know,” she said, sniffling.

“Hi, Daddy,” you heard a small voice say.

You felt the tears fill in your eyes as you realized that Jack was there with them.

“Hey, buddy,” Hotch said, his voice cracking. 

“Is George a bad guy?” Jack asked innocently.

“Yes, he is,” Hotch answered. “Jack, listen to me. I need you working the case, okay?” Hotch asked.

You had no idea what he was saying, and a glance at Spencer told you he didn’t either. However, it seemed to make perfect sense to Jack.

“Okay, Daddy,” he said before apparently leaving the room.

“Is he gone?” Hotch asked after a moment.

“Yes,” Haley responded.

“Aaron, do you know where we are?” Foyet asked tauntingly.

“Yes,” Hotch answered evenly. 

Apparently Hotch had profiled enough to know where you were heading, and it wasn’t Foyet’s apartment, as he had taken a quick U-turn a second ago.

“Tick tock, Aaron,” Foyet teased. 

“You're so strong, Haley. You're stronger than I ever was,” Hotch addressed his wife.

“You’ll hurry, right?” she nearly begged. You couldn’t stop silently crying.

“Yes,” he promised.

The line went dead.

Silence filled the car like water, drowning you. Hotch drove recklessly through the streets, swerving and braking too quickly. When it felt like you’d drive off the edge of the earth before you’d reach his home, he pulled into the driveway of a very nice house.

He jumped out without bothering to turn the car off, and Spencer followed after him, motioning for you to follow behind him. 

Both men had their guns drawn, and Hotch motioned for you and Spencer to go around the back. You did so, speeding along the side of the house until you reached the back door. You heard Hotch’s footsteps and went the opposite way, clearing each room of the house in the downstairs area. Meeting Hotch at the stairs, you made your way up behind the two agents.

Spencer made sure to shield you with his body from any possible angle Foyet might come from. 

You followed Hotch down the hallway to the last room on the right. Entering, you saw a tall, blonde woman standing in front of Foyet. 

His blade was on her throat so tightly, it had already drawn blood. Her head was tilted slightly back, trying, in vain, to escape the edge of the knife. Foyet’s grin was partially obscured by Haley, whom he was expertly hiding behind.

“Aaron, you brought guests to our party,” he said.

Hotch’s gun was trained on Foyet, as was Spencer’s. Although you were no marksmen, you knew there was no shot there, not without severe risk to Haley. Looking around, you didn’t see Jack anywhere. You hoped that was a good thing.

“Aaron,” Haley said his name like a prayer.

Hotch’s eyes flickered to hers, but only for a second. He couldn’t show fear, not in front of this man.

Foyet’s eyes drifted over to you, interested.

“And you brought the genius’ toy,” he mused. “Good. Saves me the effort of traveling.”

You gulped, trying your best not to let the fear show in your eyes. Even if he hadn’t seriously planned on hurting you before, you were definitely on his list now.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Hotch promised. “Put the knife down, or I’ll shoot.”

Foyet tsked him and shook his head, hiding his body behind Haley’s slim frame.

“We both know you won’t risk your wife’s melon for that,” he said.

Hotch breathed and took a moment to collect himself.

“Where’s Jack?” Hotch asked Haley.

“He’s working the case,” she answered breathlessly, a small smile on her lips for some reason.

Foyet rolled his eyes.

“Hiding, somewhere,” he said. 

Good, you thought. Foyet didn’t know where he was. He was safe.

You knew they needed something to surprise Foyet with. If he dropped his guard, even for a second, it could give them the shot they needed.

“I’ve been thinking, while we waited for you here, just how to cut her up,” Foyet mused, tracing a thin line across Haley’s neck. It wasn’t deep, just a slight tear in the skin, enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Hotch didn’t flinch, but you did. From behind Spencer, you could see Foyet’s eyes. He was clearly interested in Hotch, but occasionally, his gaze would meet yours. The knife dug into Haley’s white neck, and she whimpered. All you could think about was Jack. That small boy was hiding somewhere, and his mother was in danger. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you spoke

“Take me,” you said, moving out from behind Spencer faster than he could stop you.

You quickly walked over to Haley and held up your hands, offering yourself to Foyet. Knowing he fed off fear, you tried your best to look frightened, which was not hard at all. 

Foyet’s lips twitched upward, amusement spreading through his wide pupils.

“What are you doing? Get back behind Spencer,” Hotch ordered, his gun still trained on Foyet.

“Take me,” you repeated, letting your voice shake.

You could feel Spencer behind you. He couldn’t risk grabbing you back without risking Foyet making a move too.

Foyet seemed to consider your offer, and for a moment you weren’t sure he was going to take you. However, glimpsing back at Spencer, he must have seen the fear he so desperately sought to create, and he pushed Haley out of the way, right into Hotch’s arms, taking you immediately after, and positioning himself behind you. Haley wept as she ran behind Hotch. Spencer’s eyes were desperate, trying to conceal how frightened he was.

“Let her go,” Spencer said evenly, his gun pointed at Foyet, and by proximity, you.

Foyet smiled and shifted, pressing the knife against your throat as he had done with Haley.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his face disgustingly close to your neck. “This one’s nice and supple.” 

He dragged his knife along your throat, not cutting, but enough to feel its presence.

“I wonder, Dr. Reid, how many times do you think I could stab her before she bled out?” He let out a wicked chuckle. “I wanted to play with you, Aaron, but the doctor here has a lot more facial expressions than you. You and your eyebrows were getting a bit boring,” he frowned.

You tried to even your breathing. Focusing on Haley, you regretted nothing. She was there behind Hotch, cheeks wet with tears, but alive. She would be alive for all of Jack’s birthdays.

“Do you love this woman?” Foyet asked of Spencer.

“Put the knife down,” Spencer answered evenly.

“That’s not an answer,” Foyet teased.

“Let her go,” Hotch demanded. “Your ego won’t allow you to take down anyone but the alpha male here. You want me, not her.”

“Oh you think you know everything about me,” Foyet scoffed. “Turns out, I’m just full of surprises.”

The blade was cool against your skin, in great contrast with the heat your body was generating out of fear. Sweat slicked your entire body and you felt hot and cold at the same time.

“Dr. Reid,” Foyet addressed Spencer. “Where would be the best place to stab someone for maximum pain?”

You cringed and Spencer’s frantic glance shifted between you and Foyet.

“Here?” he asked, sliding the knife along your neck and down to your chest. “Here?” he asked again, sliding it down towards your navel.

The knife was not pressed against you, simply hovering over your clothes. Foyet seemed more focused on Spencer’s face than he did on you.

You looked at Hotch and nodded slightly, looking down at the floor and back up at him. He blinked. You took a breath, closed your eyes, and ducked.

The gunshot was so loud, you thought you’d gone deaf the moment after. You didn’t hear the knife drop to the ground, or the collapse of Foyet’s body. You didn’t turn to see him. You knew Hotch’s shot had gone right through his head as you’d ducked. You’d been significantly shorter than Haley, and all you had to do to give him a shot was to duck your head and bend your knees slightly.

Spencer’s face was all amazement and shock, as, you would assume, was yours. Hotch lowered his gun and turned to his wife, taking her in his arms and rocking her back and forth. You stepped slowly towards Spencer who still had his gun up. Gently, you lowered the barrel with your hand and he blinked, slowly coming back to himself.

“Hey,” you said softly. “I’m here.”

He blinked and licked his lips while trying to process everything. He then dropped the gun and buried his face in your hair as he hugged you. He held you so tightly, you thought you might not have room to breathe. When he finally released you, you realized Haley and Hotch had left the room.

Walking into the hallway, you didn’t see them. After a moment, Hotch emerged from the room next to the bedroom, his study, carrying Jack. Haley followed close after them, a smile on her face. She wiped the remaining tears away from her eyes and looked at you. Before she could say anything, Hotch spoke.

“We should go outside and call the team,” Hotch decided.

You all nodded in agreement, and Hotch led the way down the stairs and outside.

You stood in the lawn, realizing your hands were still shaking. Spencer stood beside you quietly, looking up at the sky.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Are you?” He nodded.

“That was either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid,” he said seriously.

“Yeah, well, those two are often one in the same,” you offered.

He looked at you, not amused by this statement. 

“You could have been killed,” he said, almost angrily.

“So could Haley, so could Jack, and so could you and Hotch for that matter,” you countered.

He huffed and looked around as if searching for something before turning his attention back to you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “You could have… I could have lost…”

His voice broke and he turned away from you, biting his lip.

“Jack could have lost his mother,” you conveyed your thinking. “Jack has a lot more birthdays than we do. I didn’t want them all to be without a mother.”

Spencer closed his eyes, his head tilted slightly towards the sky. He opened them to look over at Jack who was sitting with Haley in the yard. They were both smiling.

He sighed and turned to you.

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he said, half requesting, half begging.

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on it,” you smirked.

He couldn't stop his lips from turning upwards before kissing you. After a moment, you heard a throat clear behind you, and you pulled away from Spencer to see Haley standing there. Her neck had stopped bleeding, but it was still stained red, reminding you how easily she could have been lost. She was holding Jack’s hand in hers. He looked up at you shyly.

“We just wanted to thank you both,” she said warmly.

“It was our… pleasure doesn’t seem the right word,” Spencer mused. “We’re glad you’re okay,” he decided.

“Us too,” she smiled, her eyes still wet with tears.

Hotch stood on the edge of the property, still making calls.

“And who is this handsome young man?” you asked, squatting down to be at Jack’s height.

He twisted nervously and glanced up at Haley who nodded.

“Jack,” he answered, his fingers dancing around the edges of his mouth.

“Jack,” you repeated. “I’m (Y/N). It's nice to finally meet you.”

“Hey, Jack, she got a present for you,” Spencer smiled. 

“Yeah?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “It’s at your dad’s place.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise!” you laughed. He giggled, clearly excited.

Hotch returned to your group and wrapped his arm around Haley’s waist. He looked down at Jack with more love than you’d ever seen in his eyes.

“They’re on their way,” he said to all of you.

“Who?” Spencer asked.

“Everyone,” Hotch almost laughed.

True to this statement, everyone from the team, about a half dozen police cars, two ambulances, and a few neighbors showed up. Although there were a ton of people there, it wasn’t hectic. The threat had been eliminated, now all that remained was minor medical attention and explanations. 

Morgan ran to you first, sweeping you up in his arms and twirling you around, burying his face in your hair. When he put you down, you saw that his eyes were red, and he had been crying. You sighed and looked up at him, smiling because you were alive to see the face of one of your best friends.

The rest of the team fought to hug you and Spencer, each squeezing you as if you would fight the embrace if they held on loosely. Once explanations and examinations were out of the way, you were cleared to go home. 

It felt strange to go back to something so normal after such an abnormal day. You’d started out desperate for aspirin, and ended up desperate for survival. Despite the years it felt the events had aged you, only a few hours had passed. It was really only mid-afternoon. You were driven slowly and calmly back to the bureau, and, once the team had taken care of their bureaucratic obligations, you were free to go home.

Promising to call them in the morning, the team bid you and Spencer goodbye, letting an officer drive you home. This time, once you arrived home, the officer left. No longer did you need an escort. You were safe now.

The first thing you did when you got home was to take a long bath with Spencer. After cleaning up, you simply relaxed in the tub, relishing in the newfound safety created by the day. Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet as you lay against his chest in the soapy water.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, lazily trailing your finger down his leg.

“Nothing,” he responded. You laughed and he sighed. “Not nothing,” he admitted.

“Then what?” you asked.

“I was thinking about Altair and Vega,” he responded.

“The constellations?” you confirmed. He hummed his affirmation. “What about them?

“That we could have become them today,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning in the tub to face him.

He looked down at the water and sighed.

“Foyet could have easily torn a rift between us today,” he said. “And we might have been separated by something far bigger and more permanent than the Milky Way.”

“Something tells me Fate has other plans,” you mused.

“Fate?” he asked, half sad from his previous thought, half interested in your new one.

You nodded and pressed yourself against him, keeping your lips just an inch away from his for a moment before kissing him.

“And what is our fate?” he asked, his eyes still closed after the kiss.

“To be together forever,” you answered simply, sitting back in the tub across from him.

He chuckled and blushed a little.

“Sounds good to me,” he answered quietly.

You smiled and stood, feeling the water cooling a bit too much for your liking. Spencer followed you and the two of you toweled off.

You ordered some food and ate together as normally as if it were any other day. When you were with him, you almost forgot that your life could have ended today, or his. You thought only of the way he made you laugh by slurping up a noodle, the way he came and wrapped himself around you as you did the dishes, and the way he kissed your neck as he lay behind you that night.

You were together, and you were safe, that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay, long chapter! I could NOT let Haley die. Rewatching that episode was the hardest thing, it was so sad. So thus, she lived :)


	28. Chapter 28

After a few days of rest, Hotch called to invite you to dinner at his apartment with Haley and Jack. Although he claimed he wanted to thank you, you didn’t believe you were the one who needed thanking. Hotch had been the one to get rid of the biggest threat in your life, and his. If anything, you should be cooking for him. However, he insisted that the two of you come over and let them take care of you for the evening.

Grabbing a cake for dessert from the grocery store before heading over, you arrived at Hotch’s apartment around six in the evening. He had said that Haley would be there, and you wondered if they were going to try to work things out. It was also possible that she didn’t have anywhere to stay since she’d been in witness protection for months, and their old house had had a dead body of a horrible man in its upstairs a few days ago. Either way, you knew it would be nice to see her. You were also excited to get to hang out with Jack. 

It seemed so strange that Hotch should have a son, somehow. He was so serious and stern almost all the time, the thought of him making a spoon into an airplane for Jack to eat his vegetables seemed ludicrous. And yet, somehow, when Haley opened the door and Hotch was swinging Jack around, both of them giggling, it seemed right.

Part of you realized that this could have easily been a much sadder reunion. If things had worked out differently, you might have been going to a funeral instead of a dinner. As it were, you happily stepped inside to the warm apartment. Hotch put Jack down, the largest smile you’d ever seen still plastered on his face, to come and greet you. After you’d said your hello’s and put your cake in the fridge, Jack took your hand and dragged you to his room down the hall. The rest of the adults followed behind, Spencer leading them, to see what it was Jack was so excited about.

Reaching his room, you saw the shield you had given Jack right on his bed, nearly where you’d left it the first time. So much had happened since that night, and now finally, you were able to see what you’d wanted to happen back then.

Jack jumped onto the bed and seized the shield with a huge grin.

“I’m Captain America!” he proclaimed, holding the shield in front of himself with one arm, and thrusting his other into the air.

“Wow!” you laughed “Captain America! It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Jack, the mask,” Hotch playfully whispered.

“Oh yeah!” Jack smiled, reaching down under his pillowcase to pull on the helmet-like mask of the captain.

“You’re a superhero!” you said.

“Are you going to fight the bad guys?” Spencer asked, walking forward to inspect Jack’s shield.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fight them just like Daddy,” Jack smiled.

Your heart sang. You glanced back at Hotch who was looking proudly upon his son. Haley was watching Hotch with a smile on her face.

Spencer leaned in and tapped the shield with his finger.

“Is this Vibranium?” Spencer asked, leaning against it as he tapped the plastic.

“Mhm,” Jack responded proudly.

“Alright, Captain, time for dinner,” Haley said, extending her hand for her son to take. 

He took it, and she helped him down from the bed, giving his hair and affectionate tousle before watching him run ahead of her to the kitchen, shield and mask still on.

You all followed Jack into the kitchen. Hotch opened a large bottle of wine and poured three glasses. Spencer was going to ask for water, but Hotch opened another bottle and poured a clear liquid. 

“Sparkling water?” he asked, holding out the glass for Spencer. 

Spencer smiled and took the glass. While he was usually the only one not drinking, somehow this small, inclusive act of giving him a special drink was heartwarming. Jack got sparking water as well, and the five of you sat down to a family-sized table.

Haley served a pasta dish she had made, and various sides were passed around the table. Jack unwillingly took some broccoli, but when you told him to think of them like tiny trees and that he was a giant, he took a whole nother scoop.

You saw Hotch smile and laugh more at that dinner than you had in the time that you’d known him. Haley and Jack laughed just as much, as well as you and Spencer. It was such a lovely time being with this family, and you felt fortunate that all of them were still here, and the person who had deserved death had been the one to receive it.

After a few rounds of wine and second helpings to the delicious dinner, you all ventured to the living room area to relax. You put on some music and while Spencer, Hotch, and Haley sat on the couch, you followed Jack to a small chest in the corner of the room that housed his collection of plastic dinosaurs.

Moving to play on the rug closest to the couch, you played with Jack on the floor, leaning against Spencer’s legs as he sat on the couch, talking with Hotch and Haley. After you’d sufficiently exhausted your imaginative powers involving dinosaurs, Hotch suggested it was time for dessert.

You offered to help, popping up off of the ground despite the protests of both your knees and of Jack.

Walking into the kitchen, you went to the fridge for the cake as Hotch grabbed plates and forks. You could hear Haley laughing in the living room followed by Spencer’s and Jack’s laughs.

Smiling as you unwrapped the cake, you noticed Hotch was staring at you.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said seriously, bringing over the plates to lay next to the cake.

“I should be thanking you,” you countered.

Hotch shook his head, grabbing a large knife from the drawer and slicing into the cake.

“What you did, you didn’t have to do. It must have taken a lot of courage to do that. If you hadn’t, I don’t know what would have happened,” Hotch said, his voice low.

You sighed, watching him cut a piece and lay it on a small plate.

“You’re the one who read my mind,” you pointed out, remembering how Hotch had gotten your plan from merely your glance at the floor. “You took care of us,” you said. “You eliminated a huge threat. So thank you for that.”   
He looked at you and nodded. Then after some consideration added, “You’re very brave.”

You blushed, knowing that coming from Hotch, possibly the bravest human being on the planet, that meant a lot.

Before you could respond, Spencer and Jack came into the kitchen demanding cake. Spencer wrapped himself around you from behind and kissed your neck, stealing a piece of cake in the process. Once you were all settled down at the table again, it was quiet. You were all enjoying the cake so much, once you realized how quiet it was because of that, you all laughed.

Not too long after you finished dessert, you called it a night. Jack had been up late as it was, and you and Spencer didn’t want to get in the way of their bedtime routine, especially after everything that had happened to disrupt it for so long.

You promised Jack you’d come back and hang out with him soon, as he was clearly smitten with you. When you walked with Spencer towards the door after saying your goodbyes, you closed the door behind you as Hotch stood with his arm around Haley’s waist, waiving. 

With Spencer’s arm wrapped around you, the two of you walked to your car. You drove home together and settled in for the night. It was still early, about nine, and you were on the couch when you got a call from Morgan.

“Hey!” he said, sounding excited that you’d picked up.

“What’s up?” you asked.

“I wanna talk to her!” you heard Garcia say.

“Hold the phone, babygirl, I’m trying to invite them,” Morgan said, his voice farther away.

“Yes, hold the phone, that’s exactly what I want to do,” she said. 

There was a shuffling as the phone was apparently handed to Garcia.

“Come out with us!” she exclaimed.

You laughed and looked at Spencer who seemed amused.

“Out where?” you asked.

“We’re at that new bar down the street from you,” you heard Morgan say.

“Come on, let us buy you a drink,” Morgan offered.

You glanced at Spencer who shrugged, letting you know it was your call.

“Okay,” you laughed.

She told you the name of the bar and you agreed to meet them there in a few minutes. Having dressed for a family dinner, you changed into a low-cut shirt and tight jeans, making Spencer swallow and blink rapidly when he saw you. He did not feel the need to change out his usual dress shirt, sweater vest, and cardigan, and you wouldn’t have wanted him to.

Arriving at the bar, you saw it was very comfortable. Everything seemed brand new, but also somehow like a home away from home. It vaguely reminded you of the old show,  _ Cheers, _ and you could already see this place becoming a regular haunt. Morgan and Garcia waved you over to a booth they’d procured on one side of the bar, and you headed over to sit down with them. 

“What can I get you?” Morgan asked, slipping out of the booth to go place an order at the bar.

“I’ll keep the wine buzz going,” you decided. “Something sweet.”

“Something sweet for someone sweet,” he winked. “And Pretty Boy?”

“I’ll have a virgin pina colada,” he said. 

“Coming up. And for my babygirl, sex on the beach?”

“And a drink too,” she winked.

Morgan laughed and went to go get the drinks. Garcia, whom you’d sat across from, smiled happily and grabbed your hands in hers.

“I’m so happy you’re out!” she smiled. “It feels like ages since I’ve seen you.”

“It’s been like half a week,” you laughed.

“I know, but now that I know you’re not going to be with the team all the time, I feel like I’ll never see you!” she explained.

“Well, you usually stay here, right? Maybe I’ll come to the tech cave for lunch or something,” you offered.

“Oh! I’d love it. Gal pal lunch in the fortress,” she grinned.

“Won’t you miss  _ me _ ?” Spencer asked, his face full of pretend sadness.

Garcia reached out and pinched his chin between her fingers.

“Always, my love,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

He smiled at his triumph for affection as Morgan returned with the drinks. He slid in next to Garcia, sitting closer than you thought he usually would have. He slid Garcia her drink from off of a tray he’d brought, and then distributed the rest of your glasses.

You took a sip of your wine to find that Morgan had made the perfect selection. Spencer sipped happily from his pina colada.

“Did I see you blow a kiss at this boy?” Morgan asked, pretending to be shocked by Garcia’s actions.

“Maybe,” she chuckled, looking at him coyly.

Morgan wrapped his arm around her and pulled her towards him.

“Well, I’m going to have to try harder to win your affections then,” he said smoothly. 

Garcia blushed, and something about it was different. Normally, she would have laughed and brushed it off, immediately retorting something equally as flirtatious. Her lack of response intrigued you, and a glance at Spencer told you he was perceiving the change as well.

Before you could inquire as to the slight change in their dynamic, JJ and Prentiss walked up to the booth, drinks in hand and greeted you all. Apparently, you hadn’t been the only late night invites.

“Welcome to the party,” Morgan said as the girls pulled up two seats at the end of the booth’s table.

“Thank you, thank you,” Prentiss smiled. “We almost didn’t make it, but here we are.”

“Get sidetracked?” Garcia asked.

“There might have been a wedding dress for sale in the window of a store I love,” JJ smirked.

“A gorgeous dress, and I don’t say that lightly,” Prentiss added.

“Do I sense a wedding dress adventure?” Garcia asked excitedly.

JJ shook her head and laughed.

“I don’t know. Will and I just wanted a small gathering, nothing too fancy,” she explained.

“It doesn’t have to be fancy,” you offered. “Just casual for everyone… And a gorgeous wedding dress for you.”

JJ laughed at this and considered it.

“I don’t know, all that money for one day?” she asked.

“Think of Will’s face when he sees you,” Garcia implored.

“Not that he wouldn’t love you in pajamas,” Prentiss smiled. “But the look on his face when you turn up in that… Could be worth almost anything.”

JJ let a smile creep onto her face and overtake her features with joy.

“Maybe we could just try some on?” she suggested.

“Sure, just try them on,” Garcia winked.

“Am I to assume me and Brainiac are not invited?” Morgan asked, faking sorrow.

“Oh please, you’d be bored to death in a bridal party outing,” you laughed.

“Did you know, ancient Roman law required ten witnesses to be present at a wedding, which is considered a precursor to the bridal party tradition,” Spencer cut in. “Bridesmaids and groomsmen had to dress just like the bride and groom to confuse vengeful spirit presences or real-life jealous suitors who might try to harm the newlyweds.”

He looked around, proud with his little fact, as silence followed. While the team shook their heads, and otherwise dismissed this superfluous knowledge with goodnatured eye rolling, you stared in amazement at him. He never ceased to amaze you. His gaze met yours and seemed to feel the adoration you were projecting. This was part of the bond you shared, this unspoken way of communicating your emotions with just a look.

“Get a room,” Morgan snickered when you and Spencer had been silently gazing at each other for a few seconds.

You tore your gaze away from Spencer to roll your eyes at Morgan. Spencer laughed nervously and looked at the table. 

“So what are you guys gonna do now that you don’t have a crazy psychopath breathing down your necks?” you asked, mostly to get Morgan to stop raising his eyebrows up and down at you.

“Sleep,” Garcia decided.

“Ditto,” Prentiss agreed. JJ nodded, as did Morgan.

“We’re going to miss having you around,” JJ added.

“I’m going to miss all of you guys,” you frowned, suddenly growing sad thinking not only about missing the team, but of your empty bed on nights when Spencer was away.

“Why can’t the baddies just not be bad?” Garcia asked.

“‘Cause then we wouldn’t look fly as hell catchin’ em,” Morgan teased, leaning into Garcia with a winning grin.

“You do look sexy in that vest,” she admitted, her gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips.

You shared a look with the the other girls and saw that they had seen the small change in Garcia and Morgan recently too.

“Another round on me?” a voice approaching the table asked.

Turning, you saw Rossi smiling down at all of you.

“Cheers,” Garcia smiled. 

Rossi ordered another round and sat down with the group. Your booth was rather crowded, but it made it feel more intimate and cozy.

“Where’s Hotch?” Rossi asked.

“Oh, we just came from there. They’re spending time with Jack,” Spencer explained.

“They?” Rossi asked, smiling.

“Haley’s staying there, at least for now,” Spencer informed him.

Rossi’s face conveyed the expression of something similar to  _ good for them. _

“Where’s Will, aren’t you guys married yet?” Rossi smirked at JJ.

“We’re working on it,” she laughed. “Eventually. You know how our jobs are.”

“I do,” Rossi said knowingly. “And I know that if you keep putting it off because of the job, you’ll never do it.”

“That’s a fair point,” JJ nodded. “I’ll make him set a date tonight.”

“Good,” Rossi smiled.

“You guys are pretty brave,” Morgan added. “Marriage is tough.”

“Like you would know anything about monogamy,” Spencer laughed.

Morgan made a face like  _ fair enough. _

“I’m sure given the right lady, he would know a lot about monogamy,” you offered.

Garcia blushed a little as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as monogamous as this one,” Morgan pointed at Spencer with his beer bottle.

“Monogamy has many evolutionary and health benefits, actually,” Spencer said. “Studies have shown that couples in long term relationships live longer, and that children they raise together are stronger and healthier,” he offered.

Morgan shook his head as he laughed.

“And, you know, love and stuff,” you smirked.

Spencer turned to you and smiled as he blushed.

“And love and stuff,” he repeated.

As the night unfolded, you found yourself enjoying everyone’s company very much. You always felt warmer around these people, more full of hope despite what their job had shown you of the world. You had to admit you wouldn’t miss the darkness of the job, though.

You and Spencer called it a night before anyone else. You’d been to Hotch’s already and were a little drained as it was. Saying goodnight to everyone was harder than you thought. They would probably be on a plane in the next few days, and this time, you wouldn’t be joining them.

The thought of being in JJ’s wedding was exciting, however, and you looked forward to the intimate ceremony. Your mind wandered to thoughts of you and Spencer at the altar too, and you couldn’t help but think that it was only a matter of time now. You knew you wanted to spend forever with him, you just had to pick a time and a place to declare it.


	29. Chapter 29

True to her word, JJ texted you and the team the following day to say that she and Will would be getting married in a month. It was going to be an incredibly small gathering. It would be the team, JJ’s parents, Will’s mother, a few very close friends, and his groomsmen. The ceremony was going to be taking place at the house Will and JJ had recently purchased, with the reception in the back yard.

Hotch had asked if Haley could come as well, and JJ warmly agreed. You saw this as a promising sign, and were excited to see them together again.

Garcia took charge of the bachelorette party. Really, it was just going to be a gathering at her apartment, based on JJ’s lack of desire to go out. You preferred an intimate gathering anyway, and were excited to spend the evening with the girls.

Spencer had made plans with Morgan for the evening, but was still sad to see you go. You told him you’d let him know if you were going to stay or come home depending on what everyone else was doing and how late things went.

Arriving at the party in pajamas as directed, you handed Garcia your enormous bottle of wine, which she received with an eager smile.

She had decorated her apartment in pink and purple string lights. On the counter sat an enormous penis-shaped cake. You burst out laughing when you saw it, and Garcia smiled proudly.

JJ and Prentiss joined quickly after you arrived, and Garcia handed JJ her bride-to-be crown. After pouring out wine and putting on a nostalgia playlist, you all settled in to chat.

“So, you nervous about the big day?” Prentiss asked, leaning back into the couch. 

Her pajamas were a pair of sweatpants and a large Georgetown t-shirt.

“Nah,” JJ answered. “We’re solid.”

“Good,” Prentiss smiled. “He seems like a good guy.”

“He takes care of me,” she smiled. “That’s all I really need.”

“That’s nice,” Garcia grinned. 

“He’s cute too, doesn’t hurt,” Prentiss nodded. JJ laughed.

“True,” she admitted.

“So what’s the wedding going to be like?” Garcia asked. “Like, how many girls am I going to have to fight to catch the bouquet?”

“I think (Y/N) has a right to that one,” Prentiss smiled at you.

“What? No,” you blushed. 

“She’s basically already married,” Garcia dismissed this. “Mama needs some love.”

“I’m not basically already married,” you laughed. “We haven’t even been together for a year yet.”

“It’s not always the time that matters, it’s how you spend it,” JJ offered.

“That’s true,” Garcia added. You shrugged, unsure if you should speak your true desires lest they be shot down for some reason.

“I’m not sure Spencer’s the marrying type,” you worried. “It’s not really logical to try to grow and change with one person your entire life.”

“Oh I think he’d be down for it,” JJ nodded. “I think if he can tie himself to you in as many ways as possible, he’ll do each and every way.”

“Not to mention he’d basically do anything you asked,” Prentiss smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you laughed. 

“I don’t think it’ll be too long before we see you walk down the aisle,” JJ guessed.

You were secretly exploding with happiness inside hearing your internal hopes being validated in front of you.

“And what about you?” JJ asked Garcia.

“What about me?” Garcia sipped her wine slowly.

“Come on,” Prentiss pressed. “What’s going on with you and Morgan?”

“I’m appalled that you would suggest such a thing,” Garcia responded.

“I dig it,” you offered.

“Me too,” JJ agreed.

“Me three,” added Prentiss.

Garcia pressed her lips together and then put down her wine glass and sat up straighter.

“We kissed,” she said excitedly.

“What?!” Prentiss exclaimed. “When?”

“A week or so ago? Well, it was really late, and we were just hanging out and he went to say goodbye, and it just sort of happened,” she was grinning, her cheeks flushed.

“So what now?” JJ asked. 

“I don’t know,” Garcia sighed. “It was… Well, it was what you’d expect a kiss from Derek Morgan to be,” she said, her eyes wide. “And I think he enjoyed it too, you know, there was definite lingering… But we work together and of course it’s messy and blah,” she said, her spirits lowering. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

“You should definitely talk about it,” Prentiss laughed.

“I know,” she pouted. “But it’s like, what if this is as good as it will get? I want to kind of hold onto this goodness and not let any potential badness happen.”

“I know how that feels,” you acknowledged. “But if you don’t take a chance, you might miss out on something great.”

She nodded slowly.

“Maybe just let things take their natural course,” JJ offered. “When I met Will, I couldn’t stay away from him no matter how much I tried, and things just happened. Maybe it’ll be that way for you too.”

“Maybe,” Garcia said, smiling again. Then, after a pause, “Do you really think it could happen?”

“Definitely,” you all responded.

Garcia wriggled with glee and smiled broadly. You were sure it was only a matter of time until she and Morgan got together. It was an odd pairing, if you were on the outside of it, but it made sense when you knew them. 

The rest of the night passed with much wine and laughter. You decided to head home a little after midnight when things were dying down, and took a cab home to Spencer.

Morgan was still there when you got home, and you entered to hear the two arguing.

“You can’t convince me, I promise,” Morgan was saying.

“Just give it a chance!” Spencer pleaded.

You were about to ask what all the hubbub was about, but then Morgan’s next comment cleared that right up.

“I’m not going to watch  _ Star Trek, _ ” he shook his head.

Spencer frowned in defeat and looked at you as you entered.

“Gentlemen,” you waved, a little unbalanced as you walked in, still quite buzzed from the wine.

“Well hello there,” Morgan greeted.

Your mind instantly went to the image Garcia had provided of the two of them kissing, and you blushed. You wondered if he thought she might have told you yet.

“How was the party?” Spencer asked, walking over to slide a hand around your waist to steady you.

“Good,” you smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Do you always come back from Garcia’s smelling like wine?” Morgan smirked.

“Sometimes whiskey,” you laughed.

“Well, I see you’re in good hands now, so I guess I’ll make my way home,” Morgan said, getting up off the couch to walk over to the door.

He kissed your cheek in passing as he opened the door.

“See you at work, kid,” he saluted Spencer.

Closing the door behind him, you turned to Spencer, smoothing a stray hair off of his forehead.

“Did you have fun with Morgan?” you asked, wondering if Morgan had betrayed the same secret Garcia had, and if Spencer would tell you. He shrugged.

“Yeah, it was fine.”

Apparently not, then.

“What’d you do?” you asked.

“Just hung out,” he answered. He seemed tired. “What did you girls do?”

“Talked about boys,” you teased. He raised an eyebrow.

“Anything interesting?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you played.

“Did you tell them how madly in love you are with me?” he jested.

You nodded. 

“But they already knew.”

He chuckled.

“Oh, well, good. I would like everyone to know.”

“Me too,” you smiled.

You were going to press on to see if he might betray something of Morgan’s confidence, but stopped yourself. It was childish to gossip like this, even though you were dying to know what Morgan had said, if anything. Time would tell if the two of them would work something out, and you would have to stay on the sidelines and watch.

The following week, the team was sent away again, and this time, you were left home alone. It felt strange not only to be alone in the apartment, but to be without Spencer and the team for almost a week. When they finally did return, you jumped into Spencer’s arms as he walked through the door, nearly knocking him over with the force of your enthusiasm.

A few weeks after that, you were getting ready to go to JJ’s wedding. As she had said, it was a small gathering at her and Will’s new place. Everything seemed very classy as you toured the house a few hours before the wedding. It seemed like JJ had put a lot of herself into the house already, and it felt like it could easily be a happy home. While JJ was showing Spencer an antique chess set that had been given to them by Will’s aunt, you and Will stood back a ways and observed them out of earshot.

“You’re really lucky,” you marveled, watching how JJ’s hair glowed in the sunlight, and how radiant her smile was.

Will smiled, leaning against the wall. 

“I know,” he said. “My daddy used to say that if you can find a woman who you can’t stop thinking about, even in your sleep, you gotta marry her,” he said.

“That’s sweet,” you responded. 

“JJ says she thinks you guys won’t be far behind us walking down the aisle,” he looked at you out of the corner of his eye. There was something of his cop nature around him then, a kind of investigatory gaze to see what you thought about that comment.

“So everyone says,” you laughed. You looked at Will for a moment as he watched JJ laughing with Spencer. “When did you know she was the one?” you asked, feeling a little childish at the idealistic question.

Will smiled softly and didn’t take his gaze off of his soon-to-be-wife.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “When does anyone know? I guess… Whenever it was when she was the first thing I wanted to see in the morning, when her touch was the first thing I wanted to feel, and when her voice was the first thing I wanted to hear… Somewhere in the middle of ‘I like you’ and ‘I love you,’ I think.”

“She must swoon when you talk like that to her in that accent,” you smirked. 

He looked at you and smiled.

“Every time,” he agreed.

JJ and Spencer had apparently finished discussing whatever it was they were talking about at the chess set, because they walked back over to you.

Just then, Garcia and Prentiss came through the front door. JJ had kept all of your bridesmaids dresses in her spare room so you hadn’t had to worry about bringing them over, so all they brought were flowers and smiles.

“Alright, time for the beautification of JJ,” Garcia said, taking JJ arm. “Not that you need much, just a sprinkling of my pixie dust,” she smiled, booping JJ’s nose.

“I’ll make sure she still looks like herself,” Prentiss promised Will, who responded with a silent  _ thank you _ .

You kissed Spencer on the cheek and followed the girls upstairs. He looked almost nervous as you left him, and you wondered how well he knew Will, and whether or not he felt comfortable on his own. While you didn’t have to babysit him, you still wondered what Will’s friends, his groomsmen, would be like. You could see Will having jock-type friends, and Spencer feeling uncomfortable given his history with the type. Still, you were sure he’d be fine, and at least Morgan would be here soon to hang with him until you could be together again during the ceremony.

You heard the groomsmen enter as you were helping to curl JJ’s hair. They greeted Will with loud salutations, but the noises seemed genuine and happy enough. Soon, however, there was a tentative knock on the door.

Prentiss, the only one not currently either curling or hairspraying JJ’s hair, got up and leaned in towards the crack.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s me,” Spencer said, his voice muffled. “Can I come hang out with you guys?” he sounded almost desperate.

“Come on in, Spence,” JJ laughed.

Spencer walked in and gratefully closed the door behind him, leaning against it as if he’d just run miles and miles and could finally rest.

“Too many alpha males, huh?” JJ guessed.

Spencer nodded and pushed himself off of the frame to come stand next to you.

“Yeah, Will’s friends are a little… Well, they’re all policemen so they’re all that kind of macho macho type,” she explained.

“My Chocolate Thunder didn’t protect you?” Garcia asked.

“They were engaging in some kind of male bonding ritual involving the recitation of sports statistics,” Spencer said, wringing his hands together.

“Ah, the most boring of all male bonding rituals,” Garcia agreed. “Well, you’re an honorary girl for now,” she added, blowing a kiss Spencer’s way.

You finished curling your section of JJ’s hair and put the curling iron down.

“You look amazing,” you decided. “Not to toot my own horn, but I can curl with the best of them.”

JJ looked in the mirror and smiled, concurring with your claims. Spencer watched intently, as if watching some kind of educational program and taking mental notes.

The ceremony was due to take place in an hour, and while the Justice of the Peace arrived, and final arrangements were made downstairs, you and your team of two ladies and Spencer finished JJ’s hair and makeup and got her into her dress. While it was not the dress she had seen that night she had been late to meet you and the team, it was a stunningly simple and elegant number that hugged her body beautifully.

You, Garcia, and Prentiss got ready quickly after that, slipping into your dresses while Spencer closed his eyes and turned around. Once you were all matching, you went down ahead of JJ and lined up with the groomsmen. While the audience consisted of only the male members of the team, a few of their friends, and their parents, it was still enough to fill both sides of the small aisle that had been created with flower petals in the back yard. Spencer had chosen a seat in the front, right next to JJ’s parents. Will had invited his three best friends to be his groomsmen, allowing one man for each of you to walk down the aisle with. 

Your escort was named Drew, and he looked to be not a cop, but a fashion model. As you waited in the hallway for the cue to go, he spoke to you.

“You look lovely in that dress,” he said. In any other tone, you would have assumed he was hitting on you, but something was different.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“You know, normally, I’d mean that as a come-on, but I’ve been warned that your boyfriend carries a gun and is extremely protective,” he smirked.

He seemed to mean this all good-naturedly, and you laughed.

“Those things are true,” you admitted. “But thank you for the compliment nonetheless.”

He nodded and turned his attention forward as the cue was given for you to start walking. You stepped with Drew out of the house and down the aisle. The crowd had its attention on the procession, and you caught Spencer’s eye almost immediately. He was watching with a smile on his face. You wondered if, as you were, he was imagining the day when you would be in JJ’s place, and he in WIll’s.

You made it to the end of the aisle and separated from Drew to stand on the opposite side. You winked at Spencer as you stood there, before both of you attentions were thrown towards JJ’s entrance. You watched her for a moment and then turned your attention to Will. His eyes were full of tears, but they did not spill over. His lips were in a tight smile, as if he were trying to stop himself from laughing with joy. And you could see why. While you had readied JJ for this exact moment, something had changed in the time that you had stepped away from her. She was positively glowing, and made her way slowly down the aisle. 

Every eye was trained on her as she met Will at the altar. As they began to say their vows about how they cared for each other, and would do so through all their lives, you couldn’t help but glance at Spencer. You found he had been staring at you. He blinked when he realized you’d caught him, and you flashed him a little smile. No doubt his thoughts were the same as yours - you wanted to say all of these things to him as well, and bind yourself together both lawfully and spiritually.

Feeling selfish, you turned your attention back to JJ and Will. As you watched them, you smiled, feeling your heart nearly explode with happiness for them. They said “I do,” as everyone cheered, creating a soundtrack for their movie-perfect kiss. 

Smiling as if they’d just won the lottery, the two nearly giggled with glee as they made their way down the aisle, instructing everyone as they went to follow them into the house for food and fun.

While Spencer was being cornered by JJ’s mother to explain why he wasn’t wearing matching socks, Morgan came up to you as you were loading up your plate with deliciousness.

“Enjoy the ceremony?” he asked casually, but with a side eye that made you narrow your eyes at him.

“Yes, did you?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah,” he smiled. “But I could barely see them over the bright light of the two of you mooning over each other.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We were not mooning,” you defended yourself.

“Uh-huh,” Morgan smirked. “Sure you weren’t.”

You continued to load your plate, more pointedly now.

“It was cute,” Morgan said finally. “I think with all the shit we see, it’s nice to see something so innocent and pure growing.”

“How do you know we’re so innocent?” you asked, trying your best to look seductive.

JJ’s mother then hooted with laughter, and the two of you looked over to see a very resigned Spencer getting his cheeks pinched by the woman.

Morgan looked at you like  _ you think that is not innocent and pure right there? _

“Alright, alright,” you admitted, laughing.

“Just promise me something?” he asked, suddenly serious.

You turned to him and you felt your smile fade in anticipation of what he would ask.

“Anything,” you promised.

“Have a  _ life _ together,” he said. You quirked your head, not really understanding. Of course you were going to have a life together. When he saw you didn’t follow, he added, “Don’t let him stay in this job forever. No one was made to do this job, not even that genius over there. When he’s ready, and when you know the time is right, ask him to leave.”

He waited for you to respond. You didn’t know what to say. You’d given some thought to Spencer eventually choosing a less dangerous career path, but hearing Morgan telling you that it was basically a necessity for the success of your relationship, it gained more weight in your mind.

“You two deserve to be happy, and for that, you can’t be dragged down by all the darkness that we see.”

You laid your hand on Morgan’s arm and smiled at him warmly.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. “I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I can promise you we will  _ live _ it.”

Morgan nodded, smiling softly, as Spencer came over to grab a plate.

“Hey there, Pinky,” Morgan smirked, glancing at his pink cheeks.

Spencer rolled his eyes and rubbed his cheek as if it were sore.

“For an older woman, she is remarkably strong,” he said, chagrined.

You smiled sympathetically, and once he had loaded up a plate of food, found a place around the table to eat with him and Morgan. JJ and Will were making their rounds, as most of the guests had just found a seat wherever they could and ate on chairs and various tables. When they made it around to you, you gave them your congratulations and told them how beautiful they both looked. Haley and Hotch joined you as they had been in another section of the house, and you were happy to see Hotch’s hand comfortably on the small of Haley’s back, and that she seemed completely happy with it.

Hotch reported that Jack still loved his Captain America shield, and that he asked about you often. You made plans to come and visit again, and it was strongly implied that, while she would have undoubtedly had time to find other living arrangements should she have wanted, Haley would still be there for the visit.

It seemed that nearly everyone was finding happiness now, and you wondered if it could last. It felt like too many good things were happening, and soon enough, the scales would tip to even out, throwing some bad luck your way. 

For now, though, you were more than content to sit with Spencer and the team, watching JJ and Will in their first hours as husband and wife, and hoping for continuing happiness for everyone you loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got a few more chapters in the works, progressing your relationship and whatnot. Let me know if there's cases or anything you might wanna see and I can try to work it in there!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the suggestions, everyone! I've taken bits and pieces, and I hope you enjoy the next few chapters! I am definitely going to continue to update for a while, just not sure when I will have time as things are getting a little busy for me. but thanks for staying with me so long, and I hope you enjoy what happens!

While Spencer was away on a case one week, a few weeks after the wedding, you got a call from a number you didn’t recognize. Thinking it might be a police station that Spencer was calling from if something had happened to his phone, you picked up.

“Hello?” you asked hesitantly.

“Hi, (Y/N)?” a familiar male voice asked. You couldn’t place it, but you knew this person.

“Yes,” you answered. 

“This is William Reid,” he said. 

“Oh, hello,” you greeted more enthusiastically. “Sorry, I didn’t have your number.”

“Oh, I know, Spencer gave me yours, I hope that’s okay. He wanted me to coordinate with you.”

“Coordinate?” you asked.

“O-oh,” William stuttered. “I guess he hasn’t mentioned yet… I am going to be in town for a few weeks, and wanted to see the two of you, if that would be alright,” he explained.

“That would lovely,” you answered sincerely.

While you hadn’t seen the man in a while, the thought of getting to know the man who had a hand in creating the love of your life was too good to pass up. You made plans for him come on a weekend when Spencer would be back from traveling. While of course there was a possibility he would be called away on an emergency case, you made tentative plans for the following weekend for dinner at your place.

When you hung up, Spencer texted you, explaining that his father would be calling. After informing him that you had already spoken, he called. 

“Sorry, I meant to tell you earlier,” he explained. “We just got a break in the case, and I completely forgot.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “Did you catch him?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “He’s in handcuffs as we speak.”

“Good,” you smiled. “So you’ll be home in time for the weekend?”

“That’s when we’re having him over?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Unless you have any objections.”

There was a slight pause before he said, “No, that’s fine.”

You weren’t sure if this was sincere or not, but he had been the one to accept his father’s invitation initially, so he must have been okay with it. Spencer informed you that he would be home the following day, and you planned to go grocery shopping in preparation for his father’s dinner.

You had a good amount of fun shopping for the dinner for his father, but you realized you hadn’t talked about what this reunion would mean for Spencer. Undoubtedly there would be mixed feelings. He had thought his father abandoned him because he wasn’t good enough, had hated him for it, but it turned out that the real reason had less to do with him, and more to do with Riley. While he must still be angry at his father for leaving, the knowledge that the reason revolved around the protection of his mother must have been reassuring. You didn’t press him, and he didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

The night before his father was to arrive, you were in bed reading together. Spencer had been home all day, and still he hadn’t even mentioned the fact that the man he’d been separated from for nearly two decades would be joining you for dinner the next evening.

Putting your book down, you laid it on the bed and turned to Spencer. His eyes peeked over his copy of “Crime and Punishment” in its original Russian, and quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes?” he asked at your obvious attention towards him.

“I was just thinking,” you said, scooching towards him to gently lower his book from his face. “We haven’t really talked about tomorrow.”

He frowned and laid his book down on the table, folding his legs under himself to sit up and face you.

“I know,” he answered sheepishly.

“What’s going on in my genius’ head?” you asked softly.

He shifted, bringing his hands together to wring them nervously.

“A lot,” he admitted. 

You sighed and leaned in to kiss his forehead. He looked up like he had forgotten you were there, and let out a long exhale.

“It must be like inviting a stranger over,” you offered. He nodded. 

“He left when I was very young. All he knows of me is what he’s read in the papers,” he said. “And I don’t even know that much about him.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you tried.

He looked at you with immense sadness, and you could tell he was thinking of something heartbreaking. 

“I suppose,” he said, after a silence. “But I sometimes wonder what would happen if it didn’t have to be late… If he never left, you know?”

“Of course,” you said, taking his hands in yours.

“Maybe he would have helped me… get through things,” he said.

“I’m sure high school is confusing enough for boys, let alone one that’s leagues above his class,” you commiserated.

He nodded. 

“Maybe he could have done something, anything, all those times I was…” he trailed off, thinking of all the times he was essentially tortured. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said, seeing that he was losing himself in a memory.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just thinking about this one time…”

He looked at you as if asking for permission to share this story.

“What happened?” you asked, granting it.

He bit his lip and nervously squeezed your hand before he began.

“I was in high school, in the library, and Harper Hillman comes up to me,” he began, his voice a little shaky. “And she tells me that Alexa Lisben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Lisben was, like... easily the prettiest girl in school,” he said, almost smiling.

“So what happened? Alexa wasn't there?” you guessed.

“Oh, she was there,” he said grimly. “So was the entire football team. They… uh... stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post.”

You felt your heart bang against your chest as he said this, as if trying to go and mend the hole that had been left by this event.

“So many kids were there, you know, just watching,” he said, almost like a scientist who had observed a strange phenomenon.  

“Nobody tried to stop them?” you asked, your eyes full of tears. He shook his head. 

“I begged… I begged them to,” he said, his voice breaking. “But they just... They just watched. And finally, they got bored, and they left. It was, like, midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't... Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn't even realize I was late,” he said, a sardonic smile on his lips.

“You never told her what happened?” you asked.

“I never told anybody,” he nearly whispered. “I thought... If I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget. But I remember it like it was yesterday,” he said. 

Though his voice had become more steady, yours had not. With your tears came a tremulous voice.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you said, moving closer to him and folding yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek, wetting it with your tears simultaneously. 

“I just wish… Sometimes I wonder if that would have happened if he had stuck around… or if, when I got home… someone cared that I was late,” he said morosely.

You thought about his mother, now, and how he had essentially ended up raising himself.

“I love you so much,” you said fiercely. 

He looked down at you, surprised that this was your response for some reason.

“You were basically on your own for your whole life,” you remarked. “And look at you. You’re a badass FBI profiler who’s smarter than anyone in the world, and is the most amazing boyfriend a girl could ask for.”

He smiled softly, some of the sadness fading from his features. 

“I don’t know about being smarter than anyone in the  _ world _ ,” he contested.

You shook your head, not taking any of that.

“If those kids could see you now with your badge and gun, they’d shit their pants,” you laughed lightly.

He chuckled at your language and nodded. 

“Probably,” he agreed.

“And it’s just like everything else you’ve been through,” you told him. “It made you the amazing person you are today. It was hard, sure, but you made it, and you’ll keep making it,” you said. “You never needed your father, but now you can have him in your life, if you want.”

He nodded, seeming to take your words to heart.

“I would have stopped them, you know,” you said softly. “Those kids. If I was there, I would have stopped them.”

“I know,” he said, cradling you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

“I was just stuck in a lower grade… and a different state,” you frowned.

“I don’t think you would have liked me back then,” he smirked.

“Why?” you asked.

“I was the quintessential nerd,” he laughed.

“And nothing has changed, that’s why I love you,” you teased.

He laughed and you thought for a moment about what it would have been like to know Spencer when you were younger. All those years before you met. Would you have fallen in love back then too? You liked to think so. All you knew was that you didn’t want to waste anymore of your life not loving him.

“You never talk about your parents,” he noted, shifting to get more comfortable. 

“Oh,” you said, realizing he was right. “There’s not much to say, actually. They live in Europe, have for a couple years now actually.”

Spencer listened, clearly enraptured.

“They’re just normal, nice people,” you told him. “You’d like my dad, actually. You’re a lot alike.”

Spencer smiled at this.

“I’ve never asked because… well… I have parents that I’m not super excited to talk about, so I didn’t want to press you to talk about yours.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “I just miss them. They don’t come home too often anymore, and I don’t exactly have the funds to fly out there and see them all the time.”

He nodded sympathetically.

“Maybe we’ll have to take a vacation and see them soon?” he suggested sheepishly. 

You smiled and nodded. With the air seeming to have been cleared, you put your books down for the night and settled in. You could tell Spencer would have a hard time trying to fall asleep in anticipation of the events of the night ahead, so you stroked gentle patterns into his arm, as he lay wrapped around you, until you fell asleep.

When you woke, Spencer was not in bed. Grabbing a sweatshirt, you got out of bed and wandered into the living room. Spencer was picking through the bookshelves, a pile of books already thrown onto the floor. He seemed to be searching through them for something, but he had an eidetic memory, so what was he looking for?

“Hey,” you greeted, inadvertently making him jump. He either hadn’t been expecting you to wake up, or hadn’t realized how late in the morning it was.

He lowered a book he’d been flipping through, and added it haphazardly to a pile.

“Morning,” he greeted.

Your gaze wandered to the slightly abused books at your feet.

“A little light reading?” you jested. He smirked and shook his head.

“I’m looking for a Polaroid,” he explained. 

“I’m sorry, did we travel back in time?” you teased.

He chuckled.

“I remember using this Polaroid of my parents and me as a bookmark a long time ago, just because there wasn’t any other bookmark around, and now I can’t remember where it went.”

“You forgot something?” you asked, surprised.

He turned to you with a solemn expression on his features.

“It does happen from time to time,” he lamented. So he wasn’t a perfect memory machine, then. That made him even more lovable somehow. You took up a few books and flipped through, turning them over to expel any contents they might hold. Finding nothing, you were surprised to hear Spencer’s exclamation of triumph.

“Ah!” he smiled. “Found it.”

He held it out in front of him, and you rounded the pile of books to look on, dipping under one of his arms that held out the photo to stand under his chin and take a look at what he had been searching for.

In his hands was a very old photograph, ripped at the edges and covered in a golden, almost orange hue. A handsome couple were smiling at their son, who was proudly holding up a copy of “The Little Prince.”

“That was the best present my father ever gave me,” he reminisced.

You smiled fondly at the photo until you realized that Riley must have still been alive at this time, only to come to his terrible fate. If only you could turn back time to this moment and save him. Alas, he was gone, and not only had the circumstances of his death affected him, but Spencer’s whole family as well.  

“Do you still have the book?” you wondered. 

“I gave it to my mom,” he said. “We read it together when I visit sometimes.”

You smiled at the sweetness and turned to kiss his cheek. 

“You nervous?” you asked. 

He dropped his hand to his side, letting the photo rest against his leg.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t really know who he is anymore.”

“He’s feeling the same way,” you reminded him. “This will just be a nice, casual dinner, no pressure for any father-son Hallmark moments,” you assured him.

He frowned as he nodded, not convinced, but not objecting.

As the day dragged slowly towards the hour of William’s arrival, you noticed Spencer was fairly anxious. You also found that in this anxiety, he tended to hang on you as if literally needing the support. This was fine with you. You trailed around the house, reading, cleaning up, or cooking for the evening, as he followed, holding your hand, holding your hips, or just generally leaning against you. 

The two of you got ready together, putting on slighter nicer clothes than you would have if you were just having the team over. Spencer was smoothing down his hair when you heard a knock at the door.

Grasping for your hand first, Spencer approached the door as if it might suddenly burst into flames. Opening it carefully, he revealed William to be behind it.

“Hello, hi,” William greeted nervously, holding out a bottle of wine to you.

“Hi,” you smiled, when Spencer said nothing for a moment. 

A quick glance showed he was just as nervous as his father. You accepted the wine and welcomed him in.

“I wasn’t sure what you guys would like, so I just got what the girl at the store recommended,’ he explained, motioning to the wine.

“Spencer doesn’t drink,” you informed him. “But I love this kind.”

“Oh,” William said, happy that you would enjoy it, but obviously disappointed he didn’t know this about his son.

“It’s okay,” Spencer said quietly. “It’s customary to bring wine as a gift to a gathering.”

William nodded, but still seemed a little embarrassed. 

“Have a seat,” you offered, gesturing to a chair at the table. 

“Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?” he asked.

“Oh no, we’re good, it’s just in the oven keeping warm,” you explained.

Spencer took out glasses and filled yours and William’s with wine, filling his with water. You got out the lasagna you’d made earlier and placed it on the table. After serving in silence, you sat down and prepared to dig in.

As you ate, there was a nervous silence. You didn’t want to be the one to facilitate all of this, seeing a it was their relationship, and they had to work on it themselves. Still, the silence was killing you.

“So, how was your flight?” you offered. Spencer looked relieved and took your hand under the table.

“Oh, fine, fine,” William answered plainly.

“Did you know, that in 1987, American Airlines saved $40,000 by removing 1 olive from each salad served in first class?” Spencer spouted anxiously.

William’s eyebrows raised and he pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. 

“Really?” he confirmed. “Olives?”

“Really,” Spencer laughed, more of a sigh of relief than a laugh, really.

You thought that might get the conversation flowing, but again a heavy silence filled the room. Just when you were about to offer another topic of conversation, William spoke.

“Your mother and I were on a plane one time with Kurt Vonnegut,” he said. 

“Really?” Spencer’s attention was captured. “Mom never told me that.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know,” William smirked. “I didn’t tell her. For Kurt’s safety.”

Spencer actually chuckled at this and nodded. 

“That was probably a good call,” he smiled. 

William seemed pleased that he had made Spencer smile, and glanced at you. You looked back at him, trying your best to encourage him to keep going, keep talking.

“Have you seen your mother lately?” William asked. 

“Not since the last time,” Spencer answered, poking at his food. William simply nodded. 

“I should go out and visit sometime,” he said quietly. This surprised you, and apparently Spencer too, for he looked up suddenly from his lasagna.

“Really?” he asked.

His tone seemed to be half accusatory, have disbelief. William sighed, apparently regretting the offer.

“It’s not like I don’t ever think about her, Spencer,” he said sadly. He seemed to fold into himself then, his shoulders sagging down. 

“I know,” Spencer admitted quietly.

William looked at you and then at Spencer. 

“I want you to know… I never stopped loving her… There were just things I couldn’t control, things she couldn’t control.”

“I know,” Spencer repeated.

“I never stopped loving you either,” he added, not quite meeting Spencer’s eye.

Spencer nodded but didn’t say anything. You felt like you were intruding on something here. William seemed to sense this and looked at you. His gaze was that of a father taking pride in his daughter, and you suddenly felt like he knew you somehow, although you’d barely interacted. 

“Marriage is hard,” he said finally, his gaze still on you. “But you guys will make it work, I’m sure,” he said. 

You blushed. You hadn’t really talked about marriage, although you had been together almost a year. 

“We’re… We’re, um, not engaged or anything,” you assured him, thinking he might have gotten the wrong impression somehow. 

“I know,” William smiled softly. “But just for the future,” he said. “Not every marriage has to go through what mine did. There is hope.”

You glanced at Spencer who also seemed to be blushing. After apparently relishing your blushes, William turned the conversation around to other things after that, apparently having got most of his nervousness out in the early few minutes of conversation. You talked about his job, most of which was a little over your head, but seemed to interest Spencer. You talked about Spencer’s job and William remarked on the cases he had read about during their estrangement. 

After dinner was over, you made some cookies and talked some more. You found William to be extremely amiable, and enjoyed his company. There was still tension at times, and you could tell Spencer was wary to show too much interest, but the night went about as well as you could have hoped.

William promised to stop by before he had to leave town, and you told him you were more than happy to have him over again.

Once he was gone and you had cleaned up, you realized how exhausted you were. It took a lot of energy to host, especially to someone you didn’t know. Laying in bed, you waited for Spencer to wrap himself around you. Instead, he stood at the end of the bed, watching you. Suddenly self conscious, you wrapped the sheets around yourself and looked around.

“Why are you staring?” you asked.

He seemed to be roused from some reverie, and shook his head.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I was just thinking,” he added absently, settling down on the bed next to you.

“What about?” you pressed.

“Something my father said,” he explained. “About how some things happened that he couldn’t control, that my mother couldn’t control.”

You remembered it, if only because he had then after implied your inevitable marriage.

“I’m sure no one imagines something like that happening to them,” you offered. “I’m not sure many couples could have made it through.”

He nodded distractedly, taking your hand in his. 

“Would we?” he asked. 

You frowned, not wanting to imagine a world where you knew a child that died. There were a lot of factors that had been present in his parent’s relationship that were different from yours. You had no way of knowing how they felt for each other back then, but add in the strain of a genius child, a blossoming mental disorder, and lack of police background, and there was enough there to assure you that you were different enough to have a different outcome.

“I know we’d make it through,” you promised. 

While you didn’t think he thought otherwise, he seemed surprised to hear you say so. 

“I’m not saying we would have acted the same way in that particular situation, but I don’t think there’d be any situation where we wouldn’t trust each other, help each other, and also do the right thing,” you explained. 

He sighed and nodded. 

“There are just so many unknowable variables,” he lamented. And for a moment, you thought maybe he did have doubts about the durability of your relationship. Hesitantly, you looked at him.

“Do… you think we’d make it through something like that?”

His attention, which had been on your entwined hands, snapped to your eyes. 

“Of course,” he said. “I just…” he ran a hand nervously through his hair. “I just… It’s hard for me to  _ know _ something like this.”   
“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Do you remember reading my journal?” he asked. You nodded. “Do you remember when I said you were ‘unquantifiable’?”

You nodded again, beginning to understand what he was thinking.

“Most people operate around me, and I’ve always been able to assess their behavior and calculate likely occurrences and likely responses to specific stimuli and events.”

You smiled a little, marveling at that brain of his. 

“But with you… All my science, all my reasoning is just thrown way off course. I have no way of predicting you, because you are illogical to me.”

You chuckled. 

“Illogical to you?” you echoed. He sighed, seemingly frustrated that he couldn't find the words to quite explain.

“Your very existence and self-proclaimed adoration of me goes against everything I’ve learned in my entire life,” he nearly laughed. “I have no data, save the last ten months, twelve days, six hours, and thirty minutes so go off of. And that’s hardly enough.”

You chuckled again and shook your head, smiling adoringly at him.

“Not everything has to be scientific,” you reminded him. He frowned, not liking that answer. “There are things we can’t explain.”

“Yet,” he added. 

“Or ever,” you countered. “I can’t explain why with the billions of people on this planet, I should choose to move into a place next door to my soul mate. I can’t explain why we fit together so perfectly both physically and emotionally. There’s no real science to that… it’s just love.”

He seemed distressed to hear this, as if he thought if he studied your relationship enough he might come to understand it on some molecular level. 

“Why does that bother you so much?” you asked. “What’s life without a little mystery?”

“Because mysteries are unknowable,” he said. “And you can’t control what’s unknowable.”

You frowned. 

“You want to control me?” you asked, sure you misunderstood.

He nearly jumped up when he said, “No, no not at all.”

You sighed with relief and waited for him to go on.

“I know what will happen when I put metal in the microwave,” he explained. “I never know what will happen when I’m with you.”

He seemed to search your features for something, scared that he might not be making any sense, or that he was rambling.

“I never know how what I say or do will affect you. While I try with everything I do to make you happy, I’m worried that one day I will inadvertently put metal in our microwave and blow us up… Does that make sense?”

“Of course it makes sense,” you said, smoothing your hand along his cheek and jawline. “You’re scared of what everyone is scared of. You don’t want to lose something precious. Neither do I.”

He sighed, relieved that you hadn’t thought him crazy. Still, from what he was describing, it seemed like he felt he had to tiptoe around you. 

“Are you comfortable with me?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he answered. “More comfortable than with anyone else.”

“But you have to think about what you do and say every moment you’re with me?” you asked.

He blinked for a moment and registered what you were asking. 

“No,” he said hesitantly, as if it were only a partially true response.

“But?” you guessed. 

“I know that you love me… I just can’t seem to keep my head wrapped around that thought for too long without doubting that I… deserve… or merit it…”

“I’m sorry,” you answered weakly. 

“For what?” he asked, concerned.

“That I haven’t made it clear that I love you so much, Spencer. So goddamn much. Nothing you could do or say would ever change that.”

His lips formed a thin line and he sighed. 

“I know,” he said softly, then admitted, “I know I  _ should _ know.”

You waited for him to continue, his eyes searching the space between you for answers.

“It’s just very difficult for me to understand all of this,” he admitted. Thinking for a moment he added, “It’s hard to explain but the closest thing I can compare it to would be if you’d gone your whole life thinking that gravity was permanent, and then one day you dropped a pencil, but it floated, instead of crashing to floor like it had the other thousand times you’d done it.”

He watched your reaction for your understanding. You were trying to, and surely you could understand the feeling of going through the same old drudgery, something different happening, and then feeling that it might be too good to be true. Thinking about his life, you tried to understand him more. He had essentially raised himself through an immensely difficult and isolating childhood and from then on had been married to his work. Now, here you were showering him with affection and love, a heretofore unknown action to him.

“Is there anything I can do to help you realize that this isn’t a floating pencil?” you asked. “It’s not like you suddenly gained the ability to love and be loved. You’ve always had it, now we’re just putting it to good use.”

He smiled a bit at this and tilted his head to the side slightly.

“I suppose I could attempt to see it like that,” he said softly. “It might take some time though.”

“We have our entire lives,” you promised, kissing his forehead gently.

You sighed and felt the weight of the day on your eyelids. 

“Sleep now?” you asked. 

He nodded and wrapped himself around you, sliding under the blankets with you. You hoped that his doubt would fade away, that in time he would realize that not only did he deserve to be loved, but that you would always be there to love him.


	31. Chapter 31

A few weeks went by, and not much happened. Spencer’s father visited one more time before he left to go back home. The visit was much more comfortable, but you could tell it would take some time to get to a more father-son type relationship. 

Hotch and Haley seemed to have completely reconciled, as shown by their purchase of a new house together, which you discovered through an invite to a New Year’s party you received in the mail. It was fancy dress, and while Spencer didn’t want to have to stay up so late, you urged him to go, and once you’d shown him the tight-fitting shimmering gown you’d be wearing for the evening, he agreed.

You got ready for the event, watching Spencer nearly drool at your appearance as you straightened his bow tie. It was cold now, and while it hadn’t snowed since the temperatures had started to drop, it was flurrying presently. By the time you were ready to go to Hotch’s, the snow had accumulated about an inch, still easily drivable, and very pretty. 

The streetlights glowed yellow and bounced off the snow around them. The trees were sleeved in a thin icing of snow. Hotch and Haley’s new house was far away from the city, and nestled in a wooded suburban area. You couldn’t see the house from the end of the driveway, as it was set behind heavy trees. Not feeling like having to finagle all the way down the driveway after the party, and not knowing how much space there was up there, you parked on the street.

Wrapping your scarf and coat tight around you, you got out of the car and walked with Spencer.

He took your hand and the two of you started your walk up the driveway. Hotch must have salted the path, for the snow did not sit on the asphalt as it did on the lawn, and your shoes remained relatively dry. With your arm in Spencer’s you walked for a moment, just staring at the beautiful trees that surrounded the driveway on both sides.

Falling snow tickled your cheeks, and you could feel how rosy they were becoming. Spencer’s nose was a little red, and he was smiling into the woods.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked.

“I was just thinking of a poem,” he said casually.

Of course he was. Of course the snow would remind him of a poem. Sometimes you couldn’t believe how perfect he was.

“Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

 

My little horse must think it queer  

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

 

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.”

His voice was drawn and slow by the end, filling you with a sleepy, content feeling. By the end of the poem you’d walked the length of the driveway, all the while staring at the snowy woods. Now, you turned to observe the house. It was a white, two story house with a clean, but homey feel to it. You could see where gardens would be when the ground thawed, and you were grateful that Haley would be there to see them grow, and that Jack could help her plant them.

You rang the doorbell, hearing the voices of many guests already enjoying themselves inside. Expecting to see Hotch when you opened the door, you were surprised to see nothing in front of you when the door opened. Looking down, you saw Jack, dressed in a tiny tux, smiling up at you. His father rounded the corner just in the to see you and Spencer standing there, and he waved. 

“Hi, Jack!” you greeted, stooping down in your tight dress to kiss his cheek.

“Hi,” he giggled, twisting nervously as he looked up at Spencer. 

“What do we say to our guests?” Hotch asked, walking up behind his son.

“Come on in, may I take your coat?”

You chuckled at his adorableness and thanked him. He took your and Spencer’s coat, and Hotch helped him take them upstairs to one of the rooms. When they returned, Jack stood by your side.

“Do you like your new house?” you asked.

“There’s a room just for me, and it has all my toys!” Jack exclaimed.

“Wow!” you smiled. 

“There you are,” Haley said, shaking her head at her son. “You were supposed to help me pour some more punch, remember?” she asked, clearly not angry at all.

“I had to greet our guests,” he answered innocently.   
“And he did so, top notch,” Spencer reported. Jack threw him a grin.

“Oh, well then, do you have time to help me now? Or are there more coats to take?” Haley asked.

“I have time,” Jack decided.

You and Spencer laughed as Haley smiled, leading Jack away towards the table with the drinks. The house had a very open floor plan. The living room sat next to the dining room, which extended into the kitchen. A hallway stood between the open area and a study off to the side, in which was a bathroom. The majority of the guests seemed to be milling around the living room, standing around the piano, even though the child sitting there was just staring at the keys. No one seemed to mind him, however, and went about eating and drinking happily.

Before you had more time to explore the area, you were bombarded with hugs and exclamations of excitement.

“I haven’t seen you in ten years!” Garcia exclaimed, pulling you into her arms and squishing you against her.

“I think it’s been closer to like a week, but I know what you mean,” you laughed.

Once you were separated, Morgan hugged you and kissed your cheek. Rossi came over after with a gentlemanly double cheek kiss.

“Where are JJ and WIll?” you asked.

“Celebrating with his mother down south,” Garcia explained.

“It must be nice to go on vacation, leave the BAU behind for a while,” you mused. 

“We’re leaving the BAU behind in a few days, eh kiddo?” Rossi said, nudging Spencer’s arm.

You raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

“We’re recruiting at colleges this week,” Rossi explained. “Gets us out of the office anyway.”

“Yeah, but I never understand why they invite me to those things,” Spencer complained.

“Because you’re young,” Rossi smiled. 

“Young?” he echoed.

“They don’t want to see old farts like me representing the FBI. They need to know that young people work there too.”

“You’re not an old fart,” you smiled. “You’re a suave, sophisticated man.”

Rossi grinned at you and nodded.

“I knew I liked you,” he said.

“If anything we should bring you along,” Morgan smiled at you. 

“Me?” you laughed.

“You’re basically an honorary agent at this point,” he said, the rest nodded in agreement.

“Well shucks,” you blushed. 

“You might also stop this one from telling his ‘jokes,’” Rossi said, using air quotes.

“They’re funny!” Spencer insisted.

“Oh, honey,” Garcia shook her head and placed a hand on his arm as if consoling him.

“They’re funny,” Spencer assured you.

“I’m sure,” you nodded, trying to contain your laughter. “Where’s Prentiss?”you asked, scanning the room for her raven hair.

“Oh, Miss Emily got invited to the White House this year,” Garcia said. 

“Wow, really?” you asked.

“Helps when you’ve worked in Interpol, and have a bureaucrat for a mom,” Morgan suggested.

You looked around for Hotch and saw him crossing the living room, walking towards you. As he approached, your eyes landed again on the child seated at the piano. He didn’t seem to be doing anything other than staring at the keys.

“Hey, Hotch, who’s that?” you asked, pointing to the boy.

“Oh, that’s Sammy,” Hotch explained. “He’s one of Haley’s friend’s kids.”

“Is he okay?” you asked.

“He has a moderate form of autism,” Hotch said. “He can understand most things, but doesn’t like to be touched and doesn’t talk, really.”

You nodded, looking again at the boy. He seemed lonely to you, or perhaps you were just imagining it. Perhaps he was perfectly happy all alone in his head.

Before you could initiate your walk over to the boy, Spencer’s hand was in yours and was leading the way as if he read your mind. 

“Hi, Sammy. Would it be alright if I sat here?” Spencer asked, once he had approached the piano.

Sammy didn’t even look up, so Spencer sat down tentatively, placing his fingers on the keys. He glanced up at you and you nodded encouragingly. He pressed his fingers lightly along the keys, bringing a soft sound from it in the form of a scale. No one around you seemed to really notice since it was so quiet. After a moment, Sammy played the same thing an octave higher.

“Whoa. You've been holding out on me, Sammy,” Spencer laughed. You couldn’t help but smile.

“I didn’t know you could play,” you whispered to him.

“I can't,” he said. “Well, I never have before, but it's essentially all math.”

Laughing at how a seemingly complex instrument could be considered math to him, you watched as his brain worked, trying to come up with patterns that would sound pleasing.

He tested out a few keys and watched Sammy for a reaction. The child remained absent and did not look at Spencer. Spencer played a few notes for a while, testing things out, but to no avail. Resting his hands on his lap, he sighed and looked up at you, defeated.

He was about to give up until Sammy laid a gentle hand on his. You gasped slightly, remembering how this child apparently did not like touch, and yet watching as Spencer’s hand was wrapped in his and led to the keys again. Allowing his hand to be easily maneuvered, he pressed down on the keys that Sammy deemed worthy of attention. Soon, a pattern emerged. Sammy’s hand left Spencer’s in order to play the same melody up an octave. 

You could tell the two were contriving a kind of rhythm together that only they understood. Each began to add flourishes, and Spencer even added another hand for a lower addition to the notes. Their playing was beginning to draw attention from the surrounding guests. 

Sammy seemed to know exactly what he wanted to play, shifting the melody when it suited the song, and Spencer did his best to follow suit. 

Music swelled in the room, silencing all of the guests. You saw a brunette woman standing with Haley, tears in her eyes as she watched the scene. The woman, presumably Sammy’s mother, couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her son played on, even smiling a little. 

Spencer’s smile spread across his face as his nimble fingers played along the keys. The song was building to it’s climax, the players pressing harder to pull more sound from the instrument.

When it seemed it couldn’t get more complex or any louder, Sammy stopped, only to lightly play the original melody from the beginning lightly on the far end of the keys. Spencer’s hands laid in rest, watching Sammy finish their piece.

When Sammy’s finger lifted from the last key, the room was absolutely still. Every eye was on him, but he did not acknowledge them. He stimply turned to Spencer and said, “Thank you,” very quietly.

His mother, who had, at her son’s whisper, let out a joyous sob, rushed over to her son. You could tell she was used to his lack of inclination to touch, and she knelt down beside him, laying her hands on the piano’s bench instead. 

“That was so beautiful, Sammy,” she cried. 

Sammy did not look at her, instead, his fingers ghosted along the keys, slowly downwards towards the piano bench, and then onto her hand. Once she realized what was happening, she let out another happy sound and covered his hand with her other hand. She kissed his hand quickly, as if it might disappear, and then looked up at Spencer. He sat awkwardly now that all the attention was on him. 

Sammy’s mother simply nodded her thanks and Spencer nodded back. After a moment, the crowd of guests resumed their talking, Sammy’s unique moment already fading into memory.

Spencer got up and allowed Sammy to continue to stare and play at the keys as he wished. When he was far enough away from the piano, you pulled him up against the wall of the deserted hallway and kissed him. You pressed yourself against him and threaded your fingers through his hair. When you finally pulled away for air, he looked flushed and surprised.

“What was that for?” he asked, breathless.

“For being very good at math,” you smirked. 

It took him a moment to realize what you were talking about, and then he smiled. 

“He’s a good player,” he reflected. 

“You’re a very special person, do you know that?” you asked. 

He was about to respond, the blush still fresh on his face, but Morgan rounded the corner with drinks for you.

“Champagne for m’lady and sparkling cider for Boy Wonder,” he said.

“And cookies for everyone!” Garcia announced, rounding the corner with a small plate stacked with treats.

You and Spencer both took a cookie and nibbled. As the night went on, you ate and drank, laughing easily and happily with the team. Jack brought out his Captain America shield, and announced that he was able to stay up late because he was a big boy now. Close to eleven, you found him sleeping on an armchair in the corner of the living room.

Hotch turned the TV on in the last five minutes before midnight. All the guests, minus Jack who’d been brought to his bedroom, gathered in front of the screen. You and Spencer stood together, his hand on the small of your back. Morgan and Garcia stood to your left, almost in the back corner of the room. Hotch and Haley were up front, near the TV looking happy and very much in love.

As the countdown began, you thought about how lucky you were to be starting the new year with such fantastic people. Not only were you beginning the dawn of a new year with a team of friends, but also with the love of your life. Nothing could be sweeter, and as you turned to Spencer to kiss him as the ball dropped, you wished that the feeling inside you, this unending joy and hopefulness, would never end. 

After you broke your kiss, a few seconds earlier than most everyone else in the room, you saw Garcia and Morgan. Their lips were pressed together and they looked utterly content. Smiling, they broke apart and seemed to pretend nothing had happened. You didn’t let them know you saw, as you could tell they had chosen the back corner for a reason. Still, the feeling inside you grew and you felt so warm inside. 

You and Spencer hung out for an hour or so after the ball dropped, but you could tell that the snow was starting to seriously pile up, and you didn’t want to have to stay over. Giving everyone your love, and telling Hotch to give Jack a kiss for you, you and Spencer made your way outside. 

The cold was swift in encompassing all of you at once, seeping into every exposed part of you. You wrapped your coat tightly around you and found Spencer’s arm around your waist, holding you close to him.

The snow had kept falling continuously for the party, but it hadn’t seemed to have accumulated much on the roads. The pavement wasn’t yet cold from the weather, and so had melted the worst of the snow so far. Still, large flakes fell quickly, and you were happy to be headed home.

Making it home safely, you collapsed into bed and slept late into the morning, waking only when Spencer had made tea and let it waft lightly into your senses, waking you up. You spent the day together, knowing that the next day at least, he would still be in town, recruiting. While Rossi had jested that Spencer didn’t know how to talk to students, you knew from the beginning of your relationship, that that wasn’t true. Spencer might not know how to talk to people, but anyone could tell he was enthusiastic about his work, and no one could leave without feeling that passion for themselves as well.

Alone for the day, you decided to go out for a walk. You wanted to see the city in the new snow before it was ruined by slush and dirt. When you finished your walk, you were standing outside your apartment building near the street, in front of a line of parked cars. Despite the beauty of the street around you, you seemed to be nearly the only one on the block. You were going to text Spencer and ask what he wanted for dinner, but you stopped, feeling strange all of the sudden. You were about to turn around, thinking someone was staring at you, but you couldn’t. 

The van you had stood in front of opened suddenly. A cloth closed around your mouth and as you gasped, you felt your head grow lighter, and the street grow darker. You were dragged inside in a matter of seconds. You heard a door shut, and then everything went dark and silent as you passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was kind of an amalgamation of "Coda" and another episode (you'll see in the next chapter)... And I recently heard that Frost poem as a quote in one of the episodes and fell in love so I had to make a scene to throw it in there. Plus I just love the idea of Reid randomly reciting poetry in the snow :)


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW sorry I have taken forever, here's another chapter! As always, thanks for the support!

You woke to a buzzing sound. At first you thought it was in your head, but soon, as your eyes opened, and you took in your surroundings, you could tell it was the low hum of electricity. Blinking against the bright fluorescent lights, you struggled to remember where you were. Seeing that you couldn’t recognize the box-like room you currently inhabited, you tried to think of the last thing you remembered.

It came back in strange flashes, the memories coated in some kind of thick fog. You had been abducted. You tried to move your hands and legs, but found yourself bound by zip ties to a metal chair. Looking around you, you guessed the metal structure to be some kind of makeshift shed. The floor was made of concrete, and the shed was shaped like a rectangle. You sat in the middle of it, facing a wall about five feet in front of you. The sides extended about twenty feet on either side. Sitting in front of you, there was a small table with a laptop. The thing looked old, and had a webcam attached to it. On the screen, you saw Rossi.

To say you were confused would be an understatement. Why was Rossi on a screen where you had been taken?

You thought it was just a picture of him, but then you realized it was a video, and he was simply sitting very still, staring at you. 

“Rossi!” you yelled.

No reaction. Rossi feigned boredom.

“Rossi, help me, please!” you cried.

Still nothing.

“Do you know that I was born with an extra y chromosome?” A voice off screen asked.

Rossi rolled his eyes slightly and sighed.

“So?” he asked tiredly.

“You don't know what that means?” the voice asked. It was strange. The man who was speaking was louder than Rossi. Rossi didn’t appear to be assessing this man, didn’t seem to realize that he had a camera pointed at him.

“It doesn't mean anything,” Rossi said.

The man behind the camera chuckled.

“It means I was born to be a killer,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

His high voice bothered you. You were just wondering again about the camera, when it tilted slightly to the side, like someone assessing another person might do with their head.  _ Glasses _ , you thought.  _ The camera is in the glasses. _

It seemed high tech for a guy with such an old laptop that didn’t even have a webcam, but maybe he spent all his money on that. And on top of that, why was there a webcam? He didn’t seem to have a device with him to show them where you were.

“That’s junk science,” Rossi dismissed the man’s claim. “We all know that killing those women, and taking (Y/N) is a choice you made, not a genetic mistake.”

You sighed, partially relieved. They knew you were missing, and apparently knew who had you.

What was this guy doing then? Not that you were complaining, but why wasn’t he here with you, torturing you or something? Had they somehow caught him while he was out without you? Or had he turned himself in for some reason?

“I want to speak to Dr. Reid,” the man said. 

“You’re not getting to make demands here, Rothschild,” Rossi pointed out. “You came to us with photos of victims, admitted to kidnapping a woman. You’re not in a position to bargain.”

“Aren’t I?” Rothschild countered. “I’m the one who knows where Dr. Reid’s special gem is. I’m the one who controls when the gas goes off and she dies.”

You swallowed hard. Looking up, you saw spigots, like those you’d see in a fire sprinkler system. You guessed that when those things went off, it wouldn’t be water that came out of those heads.

Looking back at the screen, you saw Rossi staring below the camera. He wasn’t making it obvious, but he was observing something important, something you couldn’t see. Why the man’s stomach seemed to be so interesting, you couldn’t say. He shifted his attention back to the eyes and then got up. Without an explanation, he left the room.

With Rossi gone, you could see your abductor’s face in the reflective glass. He was older than you’d anticipated. Someone with the speed and accuracy it took to take you right off of a street in the middle of the day should have had a strong build and athletic frame. This man did not. Somehow, you guessed through a life of hiding in the shadows, this stout, white-haired man had taken you. His glasses didn’t look conspicuous from what you could see in the reflection.

You wished more than anything that the glass was two ways right now. You wanted to see Spencer, to know that he was okay, and to see how his brain would work to find you.

Glancing up again at the sprinklers, you wondered how much time you had. Would the last thing you saw be this laptop? This shed? You closed your eyes and pictured Spencer’s face. You would see him again, you had to.

Wriggling again, you couldn’t loosen the zip ties at all. The chair seemed to be bolted to the ground, as it did not wiggle when you shifted your weight. With your hands tied behind you to separate parts of the chair, there was no way to try to bite through the plastic. You couldn’t move your torso much, and the ties on your feet were so tight they were already starting to cut off circulation. You’d never felt so helpless, and you hated this man for making you feel this way.

But you had trusted Spencer and the team with your life before, and you were ready to do it again. This man was clearly playing some kind of game, but he underestimated them. He didn’t know what it was like to love someone the way you loved Spencer and the way you loved the team. He didn’t know what it felt like to do anything to help someone. That was his disadvantage.

Your attention was pulled away from your futile attempts to free yourself, when you heard a door open and close on the feed from the laptop. Your heart leapt when you saw Spencer stride across the room and sit down across from Rothschild. His features were neutral, showing no outward signs of distress or worry.

“Dr. Reid,” Rothschild cooed.

Spencer took out his phone from his pocket, tapped a few times on the screen, and pulled up a video. It took you a moment to realize it was you on that screen. You almost didn’t recognize yourself tied up like that. Moving from side to side, you saw that the stream was in real time. He seemed to be getting this in a browser on his phone. Was this on the internet somewhere?

“We found your website,” Spencer spat, taking his phone back. He looked at you for a moment, and, while you knew he couldn’t hear you, still mouthed  _ I love you _ .

Spencer didn't seem to notice, and you doubted that such a cheap webcam had the resolution to allow for accurate lip reading anyway.

“Do you like it?” Rothschild asked.

Spencer blinked at him, his expression almost incredulous.

“No,” he answered flatly.

“I thought you liked puzzles,” Rothschild answered, clearly enjoying this.

“I like my girlfriend to be with me and not in some mediocre criminal’s basement.”

“Mediocre?” Rothschild repeated, more offended than his previously nonchalant behavior predicted.

“We’re going to find her,” Spencer said determinedly.

“And then what?” he countered. “Sweep in heroically, untie her, cradle her in your arms, only to have her scorn you for putting her there in the first place?”

Spencer, who had heretofore acted with callousness, faltered. He showed concern and doubt just long enough for Rothschild to gain the upper hand.

“She was never really the plan,” he added. “You were. I wanted to take what was yours and crush it, turn it into something ugly.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, his voice cracking.

“William Grace,” Rothschild spat at him. “The man you called the face of pure evil in your paper for the American Psychological Association. My brother,” he said. “My life ended the day you arrested him. Every time people talked about William Grace, they always talked about his parents and his brother, Henry. No one could believe that anyone that evil could possibly hide in the darkness. Surely someone must have seen, someone must have known… Surely his own brother.”

Spencer looked horrified at this. He had written so many papers, so many essays. He must have never guessed something like this would be the result of his writing.

“I had a fiance, Dr. Reid. A beautiful woman. A perfect woman. She sent the ring back to me. She said she was afraid to give it to me in person. She was a brunette. So then I started getting these thoughts, these ideas, these images inside my head. I couldn't escape them. And then I realized, my brother hadn't been alone in the darkness. I shared the same genetics your colleague so casually dismissed. I started a second life. But something was missing. I couldn't figure it out. And then I realized what it was. Vengeance. You ruined my life by taking my brother from me, by taking my fiance from me. Now it was time for me to take what was most precious to you.”

“You murdered all those women, and took (Y/N) because of something I wrote?” Spencer asked.

“You took my family, I take yours,” Rothschild menaced. 

Spencer’s face was slack and he sat back in his chair. It took a few moments, but he had recovered enough composure to regain his mask of indifference. His eyes slid down to where Rossi had been looking before. This time, Rothschild notice. He glanced down too, and there you saw his thumbs tapping away in a seemingly random pattern.

“Do you know what you’re doing there?” Spencer asked calmly.

Rothschild stopped tapping and spread his hands out flat on the table.

“It’s the fibonacci sequence,” Spencer said, almost proudly. 

Then, as if he had just realized something, he shot up and ran out of the room. Rothschild’s breathing was heavy now, as if he knew he had given something away. What it was, you didn’t know.

A few agonizing minutes passed before he popped his head back in the door.

“I know where you have her,” was all he said before slamming the door.

You heard Rothschild let out a scream before the camera glasses were ripped off his face and chucked across the room, cutting off the video feed.

Almost simultaneously, as if the link to the video has been delaying the gas, the sprinkler above you started spewing something. The shed was big enough that it would take some time for the gas to replace all the oxygen in the room, but that didn’t stop the panic from setting in. The noise of the sprinklers seemed to be growing louder, filling the room with its toxic mass and making you cough violently. You tried to hold your breath, but after almost a minute, were forced to breathe in more gas as a result of holding your breath.

Your head drooped, and you could feel your lungs’ violent protest in your chest. You closed your eyes and thought of Spencer. It felt like hours, but only about fifteen minutes passed as the room slowly filled with gas. Still, in your mind’s eyes you saw him. His warm eyes, his gentle touch, his sweet voice. 

His voice. 

You thought you heard it. It must have been the gas messing with your head. 

But then you felt the touch of his finger on your chin, lifting your face to meet his. You saw Morgan there with a knife, cutting you free of the chair. Before you could laugh, or cry, or both, you fell forward into Spencer’s arms. He lifted you with his arms under your knees and around your shoulders. 

You were vaguely aware that he was carrying you outside, where your chest expanded quickly, trying to suck in all the air in the world. You could hear yourself coughing, but didn’t feel it for some reason. You were very tired, and as much as you wanted to see Spencer’s face worrying down over you, your eyes closed against your will, and you passed out.

“She’s waking up,” you heard a voice say.

They sounded like they were miles away, but then someone seemed to turn up the volume of the world, because you could hear people shuffling all around you.

Blinking slowly, you opened your eyes to see nearly everyone you loved surrounding a bed you had been placed in.

Spencer held your hand, and was on your immediate left. Standing next to him around the edge of your bed were Morgan, Garcia, Prentiss, Hotch, Haley, JJ, and Will. All of them were smiling down at you, and for a moment, you thought you might be dreaming.

Glancing over at Spencer,  you pulled your eyebrows together in confusion.

“What --” you managed to croak out before a huge coughing fit. You hadn’t realized how dry your throat was. 

Morgan was quick to pass you some water, and you chugged it down. It only now occurred to you that you were in a hospital. Remembering what had happened, you smiled at your team.

“You found me,” you said, feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

“Reid found you,” Hotch corrected you gently.

“How?” you choke out before a small coughing fit.

“One, one, two, three, five,” Spencer said softly. “It's an irrational number known as ‘phi.’ It's based on the ratio of line segments to each other and of the whole. It's called the golden ratio.”

“GoldenRat.Net,” Garcia added. “That’s where he was livestreaming you.”

Spencer nodded, and continued.

“It's a ratio found all through life. In fact, many people that we find conventionally attractive are proportioned based on that ratio.”

“Get to the point, nerd,” Morgan teased.

“It's what his ticks mean. He's subconsciously counting off the Fibonacci sequence in his head over and over again. Now geometrically, it can be expressed as a spiral. It's called a logarithmic spiral. We took the points of the women he claimed to have murdered, found the edge of the spiral, and it lead right to the middle, where he was keeping you.”

“You got all that from him tapping his thumbs together?” you asked, not sure how he was able to amaze you so much anymore. You should be used to this kind of brilliance by now.

Spencer shrugged and looked down at your hand in his.

“We’re just lucky it wasn’t too far away,” he said, a tad solemnly.

“He took me right off the street,” you told them. “I should have seen him.”

Rossi shook his head.

“This is not a man who can confront a woman on equal footing. He sneaks up on them. Gets them from behind. Blitz attacks. The original seven victims, they were alone when they came up missing. They had a routine, and he watched them. Hiding in the weeds like a snake. Like a coward,” he said. 

Still, it didn’t help your pride that this creepy coward had taken you so easily. You comforted yourself with the fact that you didn’t think anyone could have reacted as quickly as that snake at sprung.

JJ looked around the group and then back at you.

“We’re glad to see you’re up and feeling okay,” she smiled gently. “Maybe we should give you a moment alone?” she asked, glancing at Spencer.

He nodded slightly, and the group left with parting smiles to give you a few moments. Once they had filtered out, Spencer stood to slowly edge his way onto the hospital bed with you. You scooted over easily and allowed him to hold you close as he kissed the top of your head.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. Your throat hurt, and your chest felt like someone was sitting on it, not to mention your minor but persistent headache, but it could have been so much worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, holding you tightly against him.

You wanted to say it was okay, that you didn’t mind, but that wasn’t quite true. What was true was what you said.

“It’s not your fault.”

He sighed, sounding discouraged.

“It is,” he said. “You were kidnapped and almost killed because of me, because of something I wrote. I can’t believe I put you in danger like that.”

“I’ve been in danger before,” you noted. After you said it, you realized this would not help.

He pulled away to look at you seriously.

“We can’t keep living like this,” he said. You swallowed hard. What was he going to propose then?

“I can keep living like this if it means coming home to you,” you decided. 

And you could. As crazy as it sounded, and as much as you tried to reason against it, you couldn’t image living a life without Spencer in it, even if it meant putting yourself at risk. The happiness and completeness you felt when you were with him stifled any fear, even of death or injury.

“I’m far too selfish to separate from you, even to save you,” he admitted shyly. “I don’t think… I don’t think I could bear it.”

“Me either,” you said. Then, quietly, thinking aloud to yourself, you asked, “How did they do it?”

“Who?” he asked.

“Altair and Vega,” you mused. “How did they go a whole year separated by an entire milky way? I can’t even go a few days separated by a few states.”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “I don’t know. I suppose they had hope.”

“Hope?” you asked.

“Well, on the night they would leave each other, they knew that one day, even though it was far away, they would be together again. And maybe they even hoped that it would be the last time they were separated.”

You looked down at your hospital bed and pulled at the sheets, feeling almost early.

“Do you hope that?” you asked. “That when you’re away… maybe it’s for the last time?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. 

“I know I’ve been building myself up to get back to this job… and I think it was just because for a long time, that was the only thing I had. I wasn’t missing anyone across the milky way. And now… even though I know I’m helping people, I can’t help but feel constantly halfway out the door, wanting to be with you.”

You felt bad for a moment, having so much pull on his attention that you distracted him from saving people.

“I don’t want you to give up your job,” you said honestly. “I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know,” he answered softly. “But I think it might be time to start thinking of less treacherous career paths… I never gave much thought to my future before you, but now it seems like it might be worth getting out of the path of sociopaths and bullets.”

You gazed at him with all the love in your heart swelling up in your chest.

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, or anything,” you said softly. “But… I think it might be a good idea. Especially if we ever want to…” 

You trailed off, images of a baby sleeping on Spencer’s chest, of a toddler putting bows in his hair, of the two of you standing proudly at a high school graduation flooded your mind’s eye.

He didn’t need you to finish the sentence, he knew what you were thinking. He shifted and moved towards you again to hold you. 

As you lay in the hospital bed for a while, you tried to imagine what it would be like for Spencer to quit his job and move on to something else. An essential part of him was the profiler he had become, and you wondered what it would mean to leave that behind. Were you worth it? 

Your tired mind didn’t want to deal with all of this after the trauma you’d endured, or the questions that still surrounded it, and so it led you quickly back to sleep, cradled in Spencer’s arms, safe.


	33. Chapter 33

Although you were feeling much better by the morning, the doctor insisted you stay another day for observation, just to make sure there were no lingering problems. Despite your insistence that you were fine, Spencer took the doctor’s words to heart and even offered for you to stay there the whole week just to be safe. The doctor had laughed and dismissed the idea. He was already airing on the side of caution, and a day would be more than enough to make sure you were really fine.

Spencer had answered your questions regarding Professor Rothschild, informing you that after you had been taken, he walked up to them after their recruitment session with pictures of women he claimed to have killed, along with a picture of you in that storage unit. They hadn’t known until after inspecting the broken glasses that the video connection had gone both ways, and you told him how seeing him had given you the hope you needed not to be scared. 

After assuring you that Rothschild would not only be put away for the murders he had admitted to, but also your kidnapping and attempted murder, you decided you were content to never talk or think about the awful man ever again.

Spencer had taken the day off to be with you, and after work was over, Hotch and Haley stopped by with surprise Chinese food. You ate in the hospital cafeteria together rather comfortably. You were already getting sick of being in this place, but your friends and Spencer made it tolerable.

Hotch and Spencer decided fortune cookies were not enough for an adequate dessert, and left you and Haley to go pick out something more to their standards from the small display case in the main part of the cafe. Left alone, you felt Haley’s eyes on you. 

“What?” you asked, when it was clear she wanted to say something but was holding back. 

“Nothing,” she smiled shyly. “I was just thinking… How similar we are.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“Well, just our situations relationship wise,” she said, nodding to your men arguing over the merits of chocolate or fruit desserts. “We’re sort of the quiet warrior types.”

“I don’t know how much of a warrior I am,” you chuckled.

She shook her head and smiled. 

“We’re stronger than they think,” she said. Holding out her hand, she took one of yours in her own. “They may fight the demons in the field, but we help them fight the demons in their heads, and I think we both know which are more fearsome.”

You were taken aback by this suddening bonding she had inspired in you, and the new strength you felt within yourself. 

“We’re not passive damsels,” she said. “We fight hard, just like them, just a little quieter.” She looked down at the table as if she were embarrassed. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone in this.”

You gave her hand a little squeeze.

“Neither are you,” you smiled.

You let go of Haley as the boys approached the table with a myriad of dessert options. Laughing, you all sampled the variety of cakes and pies they had brought, making the most of an otherwise bleak hospital environment.

The following day you were released from the hospital. Spencer took the rest of the week off, despite your worries that he was using up personal and vacation time on something he didn’t need to.

As the weeks went on, Spencer went back to work, and you continued your freelance writing to help pay the bills. The weather turned warmer, and it was on a summer morning that you woke up to the smell of pancakes.

Opening your eyes groggily, you saw Spencer walking into the room with a small tray. On it was a plate, a glass of orange juice, and an empty vase. As he got closer, and placed the tray down at the end of the bed, you saw that the pancake was shaped as the number one.

Your puzzled attention then strayed to the small, empty, vase.

“Good morning,” Spencer said, breaking your concentration on the tray.

“Morning,” you smiled at his bedhead hair. “What’s all this?”

He smiled coyly and flicked his wrist, pulling a rose seemingly out of thin air and dropping it into the vase. You let out a small sound of amusement and laughed. His eyes sparkled watching your enjoyment.

“It’s our one year anniversary today,” he smiled shyly.

You blinked, not having realized that today was the day. You suddenly felt selfish having not recollected it. 

“Is it really?” you asked, wondering how so much time could have flown by so quickly.

Spencer hesitated and then said, “Well technically it is in about ten hours. We were at the restaurant downtown, and our waiter said, ‘What can I get for you?’ and I ordered my meal and then he said, ‘And for your girlfriend?’ and then he paused and looked embarrassed and asked if he had misread the situation, but you said, ‘No,’ and smiled. Then the waiter told me I was a lucky man, and I agreed.”

He recited this as if you might have forgotten, as if he needed proof that you had, in fact, agreed to this arrangement. You laughed at his incredible memory and smiled at him.

Looking down, you now realized what the pancake symbolized. 

“Are you going to eat as well?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Mine’s in the kitchen, but I wanted to present you with yours first. I know I promised to do magic tricks  _ while _ I make you breakfast, but this seemed more fitting.”

You shook your head and tried to contain the joy you felt. He looked at you with large, innocent eyes, waiting to see what your response might be.

You knew the pancakes would get cold, but you had made up your mind how to spend your morning. You carefully placed the tray on the table next to the bed, and before Spencer could ask why, you pulled him to you by the collar of his t shirt.

He nearly giggled with surprise at your kiss as your lips crashed against his. Pulling him down on top of you, you felt his hand scoop under the small of your back and pull you as he rolled over. You laid on top of him, smiling into your kisses. Your hands tangled in his hair and as you kissed him fiercely, you thought of all the time you’d spent together so far. 

Never when you first met did you think that you’d be tangling your limbs and wrapping yourselves up in sheets together. The man who had been scared to hold your hand was not the same man who now confidently parted your legs with his hand to slip his fingers inside you. Nor was he the same man who sucked gently at your skin in all your favorite places. He had transformed, as you had, into a more confident person. As you got naked together now, it seemed as natural as breathing. 

His touch still brought goosebumps to your skin as he slid his hands along your hips to flip you onto your back again. His voice in your ear, asking you if you were ready for him, still made you grow even wetter. Wrapping your legs around him and clutching him to you still felt like the most important thing in the world. Feeling his hot breath on your lips as you came together, unravelling into tiny pieces in each other’s arms was still one of your favorite experiences in this life.

By the time you had finished you were panting and sweating, lying naked on top of the covers looking up at the ceiling together. Smiling, you glanced over at your pancake.

“We should probably eat something,” Spencer remarked, reading your mind.

You turned your attention back to him and smiled, rolling on your side to glance at the man you’d been with for a year now.

“You know what I realized?” you asked.

“What’s that?” he questioned.

“You’ve been sober now for way more than a year.”

Spencer gave a small, satisfied smile, and nodded. 

“Sometimes I forget it was ever even an issue,” he admitted almost sheepishly.

While you doubted that was entirely true, it still felt nice to hear that he no longer struggled as much with the cravings.

“We should do something to celebrate,” you said. “Both things are quite the achievement.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, and you were proud he didn’t belittle his sobriety as anything less than a great achievement.

“Maybe we should have the team over again,” you suggested.

“What should we do?”

You ruminated on this while you got up, lending your hand to pull him up and off the bed. Grabbing your pancake, an idea struck.

“Movie night?” you asked. You pulled on one of his large t shirts and he donned some boxers.

“Oo, I could go for a horror movie,” he suggested.

You chuckled, leading him into the kitchen.

“Don’t you get enough blood and gore at work?”

“It’s actually an interesting genre. You want to know why horror movies are so successful?” he asked.

“Why is that, my genius?” you asked.

“They prey on our instinctual need to survive. In tribal days, a woman's scream would signal danger and the men would return from hunting to protect their pack. That's why it's always the women and not the men who fall victim to the bogeyman.”

“I’ve seen plenty of men killed in horror movies,” you pointed out.

“But do they scream?” Spencer asked playfully. 

You conceded at least to this fact, and placed your pancake in the microwave. After yours went his, and you finally had breakfast together.

You took out your phone to send a group text to the team, asking when everyone was available. It seemed that the coming weekend would be perfect, provided there were no work emergencies. You spent the week picking out a few different movie options while Spencer was away on a case. When they returned late on Friday night, you planned the movie for the following evening. 

While Hotch opted out to have a kid-friendly movie night with his wife and son, the rest agreed to meet you at your place around eight. JJ was even going to bring Will. You and Spencer spent the day preparing some snacks and doing chores around the apartment.

When the time came, your guests all arrived around the time you had set. You mingled for a while, waiting for the last two, JJ and Will to arrive. When they came in, you all went to take your positions on the couch and chairs, but JJ stopped you with a quiet voice.

“I, uh, wish Hotch was here,” she said, half nervous, half laughing. “But we have some exciting news to share.”

Will stood behind JJ with his hands on her hips. His attention was fully on his glowing wife.

“I’m pregnant,” JJ laughed, her smile filling the rest of her features with joy.

“Oh my gosh, JJ,” Spencer was the first to respond. He immediately rushed over to hug her, and the rest of you waited in line.

“Congratulations,” you said, excited for her and Will.

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” she admitted, once everyone had hugged and congratulated her. “But we’re really excited, and we actually wanted to ask…” She looked at you and Spencer expectantly. “Will you two be the godparents?” 

You were struck by this both unexpected and flattering request. A quick glance at Spencer told you he felt the same way you did.

“We’d be honored,” you answered for the both of you.

“Thank you,” Will smiled. 

“Oh my gosh, JJ, you’re going to be like the hottest mom around. All the other mom’s are going to be so jealous at the playground,” Garcia gushed.

JJ laughed. 

“Well, they’ll certainly have the most badass, well-trained mom,” Prentiss added. 

You turned to her, and were taken aback. Something was off. While she hid it well, and her words seemed genuine, there was something there that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. No one else seemed to pick up on it, however, and your attention was pulled away by Spencer suggesting you start the movie and dive in on the snacks.

While the rest of the gang had settled down, Prentiss was the last to grab her snacks. You took this opportunity to approach her carefully, still feeling like something was still off with her.

“Hey,” you said, so none of the others could hear you. “You okay?”

She balked at the question, showing a bit more surprise than you’d anticipated she might.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just felt like something was off with you. Sorry if I misread.”

Prentiss looked over at the team and then back at you and gave you a tight-lipped smile. 

“I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly. 

You frowned, unsure if she didn’t wish to confide in you, or if she just didn’t want to discuss it in front of the others.

“Well, if you need to talk about whatever it is, I’m here,” you offered.

Her eyes softened, and for the first time ever, you saw Emily Prentiss look vulnerable.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

You nodded, grabbed your snack, and headed over to the couch. She followed close behind and sat next to you. The movie had started, and a dumb blonde was about to be murdered.

“Are you telling me that girl didn't know that the unsub was waiting for her upstairs?” Morgan asked.

“Shhh,” Garcia hit him playfully.

“They’re called villains,” Spencer pointed out. 

“Huh?” Morgan asked.

“In movies, they’re called villains,” he repeated.

“My bad,” Morgan held his hands up in defense.

“No talkie talkie during the scary scary,” Garcia chastised. 

As the knife wielding psycho wandered into frame, the abrupt music began just as he stabbed her. Nearly everyone jumped except you and Spencer. You merely looked at him, amused that the others had fallen for the cheap scare.

It turned out that watching a scary movie with Morgan was nearly impossible. His questions included, but were not limited to: Why didn’t the girl realize that the killings pointed to a mission-oriented killer? Why didn’t she look into what the previous victims had in common to come up with a list of suspects? Do all horror movie women fall down when they run? Why didn’t she use a certain technique to evade the knife and use his own weight against him in combat?

By the end of the film, you had all started asking these questions the movie had no intention of addressing, and were having a blast. After the movie, the team hung out for a little while, but ultimately decided to call it an early night, as it had been a long week. Prentiss lingered and waited until the rest of the team had gone to say her goodbyes. 

“Would you… Walk me to my car?” she asked you. 

You could sense Spencer’s surprise at this, but ignored him, nodding and taking her arm to lead her to the car. 

“Be right back,” you told Spencer. He nodded, clearly thinking a mile a minute as to what she wanted to discuss without him.

You closed the door behind you and walked in silence down the hallway. You decided to take the stairs and buy a little more time if she wanted to talk to you, but she was silent. When you got to the door of the building and walked outside into the warm night air, she finally sighed and turned to you. You could tell she had been trying to build up to this the entire walk, and was finally letting it out.

“So… You asked why I was off earlier,” she said. 

You nodded, leading both of you to a bench near the entrance of the building.

“I… I am happy for JJ,” she said, looking down at her hands. “God, I’ve never told anyone this before,” she breathed. 

“You can tell me,” you offered. “Or not. Your choice.”

“Choice,” she laughed. “That’s what it was about.”

You waited patiently as she collected herself.

“We moved around a lot when I was a kid, because of my mom's postings. It was hard to get accepted. And when you're fifteen, that's all you want. You'll do almost anything,” she started. You nodded encouragingly. “I got pregnant,” she said, almost wistfully. 

“Who was the father?” you asked.

“Some guy,” she shook her head. “No one special. Older than me. And I was only a teenager, you know?”

“Too young,” you offered.

She nodded, her eyes were filling with tears.

“And I went to my best friend, my only friend, Matthew. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell my mother, and I didn’t know where else to go. Matthew suggested I talk to our priest,” her fingers strayed to the golden cross that lay on her chest, held by a chain.

“What did he say?” you asked.

“He said that if I had an abortion, I wasn't welcome in his congregation.”

“That’s not fair,” you objected. She smiled sardonically. “What did you do?” you asked, taking her hands in yours.

“Matthew found a doctor. He took me there. He stayed with me. That Sunday when we got back to Rome, he held my hand and walked me into the church. Father Gamino actually stopped his sermon, but Matthew told me to hold my head up, and we walked to the front pew.”

You smiled at this, glad that she had a friend who would defend her so well, and so gallantly.

“The priest and Matthew just stared at each other. It was like a battle of wills, and then suddenly Father Gamino went back to his sermon. Matthew saved my life. He made me feel like I was worthy of... Love and friendship,” she said, sniffling. The tears had started to fall now, and you squeezed her hands to let her know you were there for her.

“It sounds like Matthew is a good friend,” you noted. 

“Was,” she corrected. “He was a good friend. He was killed last year… very close to around this time.”

And suddenly you could see why this was such bittersweet news for your friend. While she was happy that JJ was getting this amazing chance to be a mother, it reminded her of one of the most difficult times in her life, coupled with the anniversary of a loss associated with that time. You opened your arms and wrapped them around her, letting her cry on your shoulder for a few moments. She pulled away, wiping her eyes, her face streaked with mascara. 

“I’ve never told anyone that,” she said. “Not anyone who wasn’t there anyway,” she added. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” you promised. 

She nodded, needing no reassurance.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” you added. “What you’re feeling in regards to JJ, that tainted happiness, that’s totally valid,” you said. 

She sighed and nodded.

“I think I just needed to hear that from someone who’s not me,” she said. 

“I will say it all day every day,” you promised with a small smile.

She took a deep breath and then looked at you.

“I should get going,” she said, starting to stand. You stood with her. “Thank you… for everything.”

“Anytime,” you said. 

You hugged and waved as she got into her car and drove away. Heading back up, you thought about Prentiss. She had been holding that inside for so long. She was so strong, but you wanted her to know she didn’t have to be so alone. You hoped she would realize now that she didn’t have to carry all her burdens by herself.

When you walked into the apartment, Spencer didn’t ask what she had wanted to talk to you about. He simply held you as you breathed, calming you down after listening to such a sad story. When you had calmed down enough, you took a bath together and headed to bed. 

JJ’s news made you think while you lay in Spencer’s arms. You had no doubt she would be a natural mother, but what would their life be like? Even if Will became a stay-at-home dad, JJ would be absent for weeks at a time. While you, as an adult, could handle that in terms of Spencer leaving, you wondered what it would do to a child to see their parent only sporadically. What would happen when you and Spencer wanted to have kids? Luckily for your tired mind, your body insisted on sleep, and you were swept into dreams of Spencer holding a little baby.


	34. Chapter 34

The following day, you and Spencer set out on a mission to buy JJ and Will a present for their happy news. After debating several impersonal and semi-robotic items, you decided instead on a beautiful hand woven papoose made by women in Africa.

Coming home after a quick bite to eat for dinner, you wrapped up the gift. Glancing at the wrapping paper, you sighed.

“It’s so nice to have real friends,” you commented. 

Spencer tilted his head to the side. You hadn’t realized how strange that sounded until you saw his reaction.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “You should have had lots of real friends in high school and college.”

“Should have?”

Spencer smiled shyly.

“You’re the most amazing person to be around. I doubt you had any trouble making friends.”

“I didn’t have trouble making friends,” you said. “I had trouble keeping them.”

He looked confused, and waited for you to continue. You thought about your past, and the feelings talking about it would bring up, but knew you had to share it at some point.

“In my experience, I have found that you don’t discover who your friends really are unless you go through something major together.” Spencer settled in, realizing this was going to be a significant story. “I had these friends, like my main core of people. I thought they were all super funny and awesome. I thought they had my back no matter what. This was back in high school where you sort of knew everyone, even if you didn’t  _ know _ them. So there was this girl, Rachel who was kind of an outcast. She was the one in all black, with piercings and rumored tattoos. Most people made fun of her and never included her in anything. We sat next to each other in art class though. She was sweet. She helped me when I broke my clay dinosaur, I helped her when she couldn’t draw hands to save her life.” Spencer smiled at the unlikely kinship. “But Rachel was troubled. I knew she struggled with drugs. I saw the redness of her nose, and even needle marks when she rolled up her sleeves sometimes. One day, she didn’t show up to class and I didn’t know why. When she showed up the next day though, she looked like she’d been through hell. Word was that she’d been too strung out on some drug to get up for school. When I asked her if she was okay, she didn’t really answer me, and fairly enough, as we weren’t really friends on that level. I wanted to make her a little happier, so I commented that I liked her necklace. It was this little black crescent moon. She smiled a little, and told me I could have it. She insisted, actually. She gave it to me even though I told her she should keep it.” You looked down at your hands, readying yourself to say the next words. “That night, she overdosed. Apparently the previous day when she hadn’t shown up for school, she had attempted suicide. I guess that night she succeeded.”

“Suicidal people often give away possessions to those they care about,” Spencer noted softly.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know that until afterwards,” you said. “If I had just  _ known _ … Maybe I could have--”

“You were a teenager,” Spencer said. “You couldn’t have known.”

You shook your head, feeling all those old feelings swell up inside you.   
“And my ‘friends’ didn’t understand. They thought her death didn’t matter. They were selfish and heartless. They didn’t even go to her memoriam.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Spencer said, moving closer to hold your hands in his. “But you remember her, you cared about her. That means something.”

“I can’t believe her parents didn’t do anything about it either.”

“They might not have known,” Spencer suggested. “Teenagers, especially ones with suicidal ideations, are very secretive. She could have passed off her overdose as sickness, or simply had a friend take her to the hospital. There are a thousand ways around it.”

You looked up at him, knowing he knew from experience what it was like to hide such an addiction and its consequences. It hadn’t really occurred to you until now, that helping Spencer through his depression and addiction had been a way to correct what you had been unable to do in high school.

“My point is, I know who JJ is, I know who you are, for real,” you said. “We’ve been through stuff together, stuff that matters. I know that I want you by my side if that or worse should ever come to pass.”

“And I will always want you by my side,” Spencer agreed, kissing your forehead gently.

You wiped away the few tears that had fallen during your story, and Spencer got up to make some tea. You finished wrapping the present. The rest of the day was uneventful, though Spencer treated you a bit like you were something fragile after your story. He was right in his unspoken assessment that it had brought up some feelings you’d rather have forgotten, but telling the story, especially to him, had also helped.

He waited a while, simply holding you in silence, before speaking again.

“Were you going to mention that it’s your birthday tomorrow?” he asked quietly.

You pulled back from the embrace, surprised. Wiping the last of the tears away from your face, you blushed.

“How did you know?” you asked. 

While you’d made a big deal of celebrating his birthday, you didn’t usually like drawing attention to yourself for yours. You had been with him only a little while when your first birthday passed with him, and it had been wonderful, even if you hadn’t officially celebrated it. You knew he’d figure it out eventually.

“I had Garcia look it up,” he smirked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged.

“No real reason,” you said. “My parents never really celebrated with me or anything because they were traveling a lot, and you know my issue with friends now…”

He nodded slowly and then got up. He walked over to the mantel and grabbed the frame from it, bringing it over to you.  _ Our Story _ still stood in graceful font at the top. One of five frames had been filled. 

“Every birthday,” he repeated your words to you. You couldn’t stop your smile. 

“I meant every one of  _ yours _ ,” you explained.

“Why just mine?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess those are the only ones I thought about.”

“You didn’t think about yourself?” he asked.

You blinked. You guessed you hadn’t. In terms of how you were going to measure your life, Spencer had become the focal point, and not your own aging. 

“Well, I think if it’s going to be  _ our _ story, it should be  _ our _ birthdays that are represented.”

“Does that mean we have to take a picture right now?” you asked, almost giggling.

“No,” he answered. “But soon.”

“How about when you get back from your case?” you suggested.

“Whatever you wish,” he said, placing the frame on the table and kissing your forehead as he stood. “Speaking of which, I should probably get to sleep if I want to be functional at all tomorrow.”

You glanced at the clock and saw how late it had gotten. Nodding, you followed him into the bedroom and got ready for bed.

That night, however, you couldn’t sleep. Spencer had fallen asleep quickly, but you couldn’t. Perhaps it was a mixture of knowing that in all likelihood he’d be leaving for a case tomorrow, mixed with the emotional turmoil from earlier, but you couldn’t just lay in bed. You got up and closed the door to the bedroom, walking silently into the kitchen. 

You decided to bake some muffins. If you couldn’t sleep, at least Spencer and the team could wake up to the fruits of your insomnia. Careful not to wake him, you worked quietly, gathering ingredients from around the kitchen to create some delicious mix. Watching the muffins slowly rise in the oven, you contemplated your life for a moment. 

It seemed surreal that you’d been with Spencer for a little over a year now. You never thought you’d click with anyone, let alone the way you did with him. It was the first time that you could truly see someone being in your life forever. Those fake friends in high school, and all the similar ones after that, had all had that tinge of impermanence. Something in you knew that they would never last. In the past year, you hadn’t met anyone with that same feeling. The team and Spencer seemed so different. It was scary, because that meant there was more to lose, but it was also exciting that for the first time in your life, you had people who you could truly trust, be yourself, and have fun with.

Packing the muffins away once they had cooled, you slipped back into bed and stared at the ceiling until you fell asleep.

Spencer’s alarm woke you up early, and you’d only managed to have a few hours of light sleep. You tried to hide your tiredness, however, and got up with Spencer. You offered to drive him to work and bring the muffins along so you could see everyone before they had to run off to another case. He happily agreed, and you drove in, a few muffins mysteriously disappearing while you drove, with ample denial by Spencer. 

Walking into the bullpen with the muffins, the team looked absolutely thrilled. You and Spencer went to grab some napkins for them from the kitchenette while they munched. 

“You know, they’re now going to expect these treats from time to time,” Spencer teased you. 

“That’s fine by me, I love to cook for them.”

“I can’t believe you made these because you couldn’t sleep,” Spencer laughed. 

“I thought I’d be productive with my time,” you shrugged.

“Well, it was sweet of you. And I love you… You make me happy to wake up in the morning,” he said shyly.

“What, seeing me isn't enough to make you happy in the morning?” Morgan asked, grinning as he walked between you to get a coffee cup.

Spencer blushed and rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he answered half-heartedly.

“I am a wonderful, delightful human. And I, for one, would think you’d be overjoyed to wake up and see me at work every day.”

Morgan grinned impishly at you as you shook your head at him, trying not to laugh.

The mood immediately changed when Hotch came out of his office. Without even a word, and only the slightly nod of his head, he directed his team into the conference room. Something was very wrong, and you had no intention of sticking around to find out what psycho had killed what innocent person this time. 

“Call me when you know where you’re going. Love you,” you kissed Spencer quickly.

“Okay, love you too,” Spencer said.

“No kiss for me?” Morgan asked, half joking and half anxious to get into that conference room.

Going up on your tiptoes, you quickly kissed him on the cheek.

“Protect my boy,” you whispered. He nodded.

You waved to the rest of the team as you made your exit. Hotch’s stern face worried you, although you couldn’t differentiate it from the other times you’d seen him on a case.

You drove home and nibbled on a muffin you’d left for yourself. You took a nap and read, basically allowing yourself to be lazy in a semi-celebration of your birthday. Around three in the afternoon, Spencer called.

“Hi,” you answered happily, wondering if, for some reason, they’d finished the case early.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was strange, nervous almost. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” you answered honestly. “Staring at the ceiling, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to get another book off the shelf.”

“Good,” he said, sighing. 

“Why, what’s up?” you asked. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re in Quantico still,” he said. “On a case here.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you said. “At least you won’t have far to go when it’s over.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “You’re… You’re not planning on going out today, are you?”

You were puzzled by the way he asked this.

“I can if you need me to get something,” you offered. “Otherwise I had no intention of putting pants on.”

While he would have normally laughed at this, he was silent. 

“Okay, good,” was all he said.

“Spencer, is something up?” you asked, suddenly growing worried.

“No, um, everything is… Just stay home and enjoy your birthday okay?” he asked. “I love you.”

“Love you too, but--”

“I gotta go,” he said quickly. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you said. You managed to get a goodbye in there before he hung up. 

Now you were feeling off. Something was wrong, but he wasn’t saying what. Why would he lie to you? Was he in danger? It hadn’t sounded like it, but still… 

You couldn’t figure it out, but nor did you want to call back and find out. He seemed stressed, and you knew the case was more important than whatever questions his mysterious call had conjured.

You tried to shift your attention to organizing your bookshelf, and that worked for a while, but you still found yourself wondering what it was all about.

You were in the middle of treating yourself to Mexican takeout food, when Morgan called. 

“Hey, handsome,” you greeted, your mouth half full of burrito.

“(Y/N),” he said seriously.

You swallowed and felt your hands go cold.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. You knew this tone. You were scared of this tone.

“Stay calm. Everything’s okay,” Morgan said. “But… He’s in the hospital.”


	35. Chapter 35

“What?” you nearly screamed. “Where?”

“I’m coming to get you,” he said. “Wait outside, I’ll be there in two.”

“What happened?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” he said before hanging up.

You jumped up, grabbed your purse and keys, and sprinted out the door. Bouncing on the balls of your feet on the sidewalk, you waited for Morgan’s SUV to pull up. Once it did, you scrambled to get inside, closing the door and immediately turning to him.

“What happened?” you demanded. 

Morgan looked tired. He sighed and looked at your seat.

“Seat belt,” he said. 

You obliged and he took off driving.

“We were on a case involving anthrax,” he said calmly.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment.

“He’s fine,” Morgan assured you. “It was a special strain that a local man created. Reid got into his office, got exposed, and found the antidote.”

“How is he now?” you asked.

“When I left him, they were blasting him with water and disinfectant. Once they got him to the hospital, they followed the instructions he had found in the man’s desk to make the antidote to the poison.”

“He’s okay,” you said out loud.

“He’s okay,” Morgan agreed. “He had to profile the man quickly to find the cure, and he did. That is one smart son of bitch you got there,” he said, managing a small smile. “None of us could have done it, that’s for sure.”

You managed to take a breath and smile a little. Morgan was pulling you into the hospital entrance now. He managed to keep up with your pace as you raced into the hospital.

He directed you up to the ICU. The hallway lights cast their dull fluorescent sheen over everything, making it look cold and too smooth. You’d been here not too long ago. You’d been the patient then. In a strange way, it was alright when that happened. It was just your life, and it’d barely been in danger. Now it was Spencer’s life, and seemed far more precious than your own.

Morgan took your hand now to lead you down the turns of the hallways and to where Spencer would lay. You tried to calm your heart. Spencer was okay, Morgan had said that much, and he wouldn’t lie to you.

Every birthday, you reminded yourself. Even yours.

As you neared the last suite in the ICU, your hands began to shake. You were aware of your breath, the sound it made as it forced its way in and out of your lungs. Morgan released your hand to open the door to Spencer’s room.

Spencer was asleep. His hair lay in tangles around his head. He looked sweaty. The blankets had been pulled neatly around him, allowing his arms to rest on top. The wires and lines that connected him to various machines seemed to prove by their bright lights and low, steady beeping, that he was, in fact, alive.

You stood at the edge of the room, fearful. You’d been in this place too many times. Morgan, yourself… This job asked too much of the people you loved, and you hated it.

You thought when you saw him, you’d run to him, but you couldn’t. Morgan stood right next to you, a solid, unmovable stone. You clasped your hands in front of you and took a few deep breaths.

“He’s okay,” Morgan whispered. “He’s fine, see?”

Morgan walked over to Spencer and gently moved a stray hair out of his face. The movement, while generated by a man with biceps as big as your calf, was tender. He motioned for you to come join him. You made yourself walk forwards and to the other side of the bed. Tentatively, you reached your hand down to touch Spencer’s hand. 

It was warm, and flexed slightly at your touch, though he was still sound asleep.

“I’ll go see if the doctor has any updates,” Morgan offered.

You nodded absently as you watched Spencer closely. Never had his lips seemed so perfectly formed, never had his shoulders seemed so broad. You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment. 

It could have been worse. 

That’s what you thought of your boyfriend’s exposure to  _ anthrax _ . It could have been worse.

It could have been a bullet, or a knife, or any number of things he couldn’t have profiled his way out of.

You jumped when you heard the door open as Morgan walked back in.

“Doc says he just checked on him before we got here, everything looks good, he’s just resting,” Morgan said, looking earnestly at you.

“Who’s resting?” Spencer rasped weakly from his bed.

You turned to him and saw his eyes fluttering open. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, but not much moisture seemed to accumulate there.

You rushed down to press your lips against his cheek. You finagled your body over the rails on the side of the bed to get next to him and burrowed your head into his neck. You clutched at him fiercely and he reached for you weakly.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Morgan said softly before heading out.

“Thank you,” you said, hoping he knew what he meant to you in that moment.

He nodded and slipped outside and past the frosted glass windows.

You inched back a ways to be able to look at Spencer. He shifted so he could easily look at you.

“Hi,” he smiled a little.

“Hi,” you echoed.

Your hand involuntarily made its way to his cheek, brushing along his jawline.

“Happy birthday,” he added sardonically. You let out an involuntary chuckle.

“Well, it is now that I know you’re okay,” you decided.

“Every birthday,” he reminded you. 

You nodded. 

Something behind you pinged, and you recognized it as Spencer’s phone. It had been placed on the table with his keys and badge.

“Can you read that for me?” he asked, closing his eyes. “I’m sure it’s just one of the team checking up on me.”

“Of course,” you said, ready to do just about anything to help him feel better.

You turned over and got up, walking over to the table. Picking it up, you saw two unread messages from Garcia. One was an audio file, one was a message. 

_ Hope you’re feeling better, Boy Wonder. Let me know if you want me to delete the message. I know you wanted me to send it as a backup, but it’s probably not the easiest thing to look at or listen to, so I understand. _

Before you could ask what the text was, you clicked on the audio, hoping that she had recorded some kind of explanation.

Instead, you heard Spencer’s voice ringing out of the phone, scared, and shaky.

“Hi, um, (Y/N)...”

You glanced over at Spencer who had become more alert. He moved like he thought about asking you to stop the recording, but instead he relaxed into the bed and watched as you listened.

“It’s Spencer,” the recording went on. “I, um, I did something stupid,” he laughed. “And it’s not looking so good for me right now. I just really wanted you to know… You know, in case something happens… That I love you and--” his voice caught and he had to clear his throat, “I was going to ask you to marry me. I wanted you to know that… In case I don’t, um, make it… I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I spend every day proud to belong to you.”

Someone called for him in the background.

“I gotta go, Garcia, please, make sure this makes it to her if I don’t--”

The recording ended, presumably because the message it had been intended for had finished.

You put the phone down on the table. The entire time you had been staring at Spencer. He watched you carefully, resigned to lay in bed and wait for whatever your response might be. You walked slowly over to him, your mind absolutely set.

You made your way carefully into bed with him, and he watched you as a scientist might watch a dangerous but exciting experiment.

“You thought you were going to die,” you said evenly.

“It was a strong possibility,” he answered, his voice strained.

“And your last words to me would have been to ask me to marry you.”

He looked down at the sheets and then back up at you.

“I didn’t want to die knowing you didn’t know that was what I wanted for us,” he said.

You nodded slowly.

“And now that you’re not dying?” you asked. He cocked his head to the side slightly, not understanding your implication. “Is that still what you want for us?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly. “It’s what I’ve always wanted for us. While traditional monogamous marriages typically involved or implied ownership or possession of the female by the male, I would posit that in today’s sociological and economic environments, marriage presents an opportunity for both declaration of equality as well as love. Anthropologically speaking there are many benefits that--”

You cut him off with a kiss. When you’d sufficiently rid his mind of the rest of his facts in support of marriage, you pulled away smiling.

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, want to marry me?” you confirmed.

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly.

“Okay,” you smiled. 

“Okay?” he repeated.

“Every birthday,” you reminded him. 

He grinned and his eyes lit up. 

“I love you,” he smiled before kissing you. 

“Oi, break it up love birds, mama needs some love,” Garcia announced, rushing into the room with her pink dress, neon green heels, and purple handbag.

You giggled and pulled away from the kiss to allow her to see Spencer.

“Hey, I’m over here!” Garcia waved her arms. Spencer was still staring at you, all but oblivious to the fact that she had made such an entrance. 

“Hm?” he finally said, once she’d hit him lightly in the arm.

Prentiss, Rossi, Hotch, JJ, and Morgan filed into the room after that, all gushing over how good it was to see that he was still doing okay.

“The Boy Genius lives to fight another day,” Rossi smiled, patting Spencer’s foot.

“Dr. Profiler himself,” Prentiss nodded. 

“Soon to be Doctor and Misses Profiler,” Spencer smirked, glancing at you.

“What? No, really? No,” Garcia gasped.

“When?” Prentiss laughed.

“Two minutes and forty-three seconds ago,” Spencer announced.

“Congratulations,” Hotch smiled warmly.

“I call being made of honor!” Garcia raised her hand as if in class.

“Granted,” you smiled. 

“I’ll fight you for it,” Morgan warned.

“Oh, baby, that is a fight you will not win,” she warned.

Morgan smirked.

“Alright there’s been enough excitement for one day. Reid, we’re glad you’re alright. We’ll let you rest,” Hotch decided. 

And, as always, when he spoke, his word was law. Everyone made their goodbyes and filed out of the room.

When you were finally alone, you both took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Us, married,” you laughed. 

“You still want to?” he asked nervously.

“Of course,” you chuckled. “It’s only been a few minutes since I said yes.”

He shrugged.

“Just checking,” he said.

You bit your lip, a troubling thought occurring. 

“This is not the first time that we’ve been in the hospital together because of your job,” you said softly. 

“I know,” he answered. 

“I don’t want to tell you to leave,” you said. “But I don’t want to end up here like this ever again.”

“I know,” he repeated.

There was silence as you both waited for the other to speak. You couldn’t ask him to leave his job, but nor could you walk through these doors again the way you had today.

“I can’t bear to lose you,” you forced yourself to say. 

“Nor I, you,” he said. He paused before adding, “So I will leave.”

While those were the words you wanted to hear, it didn’t feel any better to actually hear them.

“I said I would never ask you to do that,” you pointed out.

“You’re not asking me, I’m volunteering,” he said quietly. “Profiling has been my life so far, but that doesn’t mean it has to be the entirety of it. I want  _ you _ to be my life. And that means being around to live it.”

You smiled faintly, your heart feeling as if a thousand pound rock had been lifted from it.

“What will you do instead?” you asked. 

“I have three PhD’s and two BA’s,” he smiled. “I think I can figure something out.”

“What about that position they offered you at the university?” you asked.

“You think I was a good professor?” he asked.

“I do,” you smiled. 

“Maybe I will return to it then,” he said. “Statistically, it is far less likely I would be exposed to anthrax, for one, and psychopaths for another.”

“I should hope so,” you chuckled.

As you lay there for a moment, you realized something. You were  _ engaged _ . While it hadn’t been the traditional proposal, somehow, it fit. It with with the chaotic meeting in your kitchen, with the haphazard way you’d told him you loved him. It fit because it didn’t matter how it had happened, it only mattered that it  _ had _ happened. 

And you knew that this birthday would be one to remember for the rest of your life with him.


	36. Chapter 36

With the week following your engagement came the realization that you would have to tell your parents. Standing in front of the mantle, looking at the second photo you and Spencer had added of the two of you smiling, you wondered what your parents would think of him. While you were amicable with your procreators, you weren’t what anyone would consider close. They lived in Europe, after all, and had traveled and worked most of your life. Perhaps that was another trait you shared with Spencer - that you had both essentially raised yourselves.

Still, they were two of your only family members you spoke to, and you knew you’d have to tell them the big news. You wondered what they would think of Spencer. Objectively he had a good job, especially if he took the teaching job instead of staying in his more dangerous one. He was smart, protective, everything a parent would want for their child. 

The only apprehension you had in regards to their approval would be the amount of time you’d been together before getting engaged. You hadn’t talked to your parents much about him, other than letting them know you had changed addresses to live with a man. They didn’t know him other than what you’d told them, and based on their lack of questions they either didn’t believe it would last, or didn’t care. 

They were nice people, your mom and dad, but they didn’t quite understand what it meant to be a real parents. They provided for you financially through your life, but their interest in you had been mostly limited to need to know basis.

Given this, you gave them no right to judge your decision. You knew what you were doing was right for you.

When you told Spencer that you’d asked them to come visit to tell them the news, you saw his face light up. While he hadn’t said anything explicitly, you knew meeting your parents was just as important to him, as meeting his had been to you.

Your parents had questioned why you wanted them to come all the way to the states to tell them some news instead of just calling, but you promised it would be worth it. 

While you waited for the weekend to have them over, the week seemed to drag. Spencer hadn’t officially decided if he was going to leave the BAU yet, or if he did, when he would. You were worried that he hadn’t immediately put in his two weeks notice. You didn’t expect him to want to do that, but you could hardly handle the fact that he went back to the job that nearly killed him… again. 

When you thought about his time with Tobias was when you got even angrier. Why wouldn’t he want to leave that all behind? But then you remembered Nathan, and all the other victims he had saved, and you remembered why. Of course it would be hard for him to give up this job that had helped him save so many. You still felt selfish, asking him to do this, but you knew if he didn’t leave, you would never have a real life together. Hotch had warned you, Morgan had warned you. Both knew that the job was toxic, and that to make it really work, you needed to be somewhere where the darkness wasn’t so close.

That Friday morning, the day before your parents were to arrive, you woke up earlier than you would have normally. Usually, after Spencer's alarm went off, you grumbled and went back to sleep, waking when you felt like it after he was gone. Today, however, you woke to hear Spencer quietly speaking your name. On the third time, you opened your eyes.

He was kneeling at the end of the bed, an excited gleam to his eyes. His hands were clasped in front of him.

When you had blinked a few times and sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you realized he should be at work.

“Why are you still home?” you asked.

He chuckled. 

“I, uh, took the day off,” he said.

It didn’t sound like a lie, but something was off about the response. He seemed to be playing with you for some reason. Confused, you edged toward him. He shifted nervously.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“I love surprises,” you smiled. He grinned.

“I know,” he laughed.

He moved his hand quickly, and even though you’d seen this slight of hand many times by now, it still amazed you that he was able to pull what looked like a thin wallet out of thin air.

You clapped for the trick, but the look on his face told you that wasn’t the whole of it. Patiently, you waited for Spencer to finish his trick.

He looked at you, and then down at the leather wallet. Only, as he opened it slowly, you realized it wasn’t a wallet, it was his badge. Next to the shield, on top of where the director of the FBI had signed to certify his status as a special agent, lay a small ring.

You tried not to squeal, and instead held the excitement inside you. The ring was small, with a simple diamond.

“Both are yours,” he said carefully, watching your reaction. 

You understood the ring, but were confused about the badge.

“I put in my resignation the night you said yes,” he said, almost shyly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you laughed, feeling relief wash over you. No more would you have to worry about Spencer being in extreme danger, no more would you have to be alone for weeks at a time.

“I was sort of planning this,” he said, motioning with his hand around the badge he presented to you.

Taking the badge and ring slowly from him, you held them in your hands. This badge had given Spencer some of the best years of his life so far. You hoped this ring would give him the best years of his life to come.

“This is really happening?” you confirmed. 

He nodded slowly. He seemed relieved too, like this was finally right.

“You’re going to get sick of me, being home so much,” you teased. He chuckled.

“Never,” he promised. 

You looked at him in that moment. The sunlight from the morning was dipping into the room through the blinds. Everything seemed to be bathed in a yellow glow. Spencer’s hair, while he hadn’t gotten ready for the day, was combed. You guessed he had been up for a while. He had even combed his hair just to give this to you. You could sense the meaningfulness of this moment. This moment when he chose you over everything he’d known so far in life. This moment when he promised to keep you safe, to keep himself safe. This was when your life truly began together.

“Today is my last day,” Spencer explained. “But I had some personal time left over, so I used it. All I have to do is show up and sign a paper. Then I’m done.”

“And the university?” you asked. “Is that still what you want to do?”

He smiled. 

“I already contacted them,” he admitted. “They were thrilled. They said students had been asking for me since I left.”

You smiled, proud of your fiance. 

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” you said, putting down the badge, but holding the ring. “Would you do the honors?”

You presented the ring to him and he took it. You held out your left hand and saw it was steady. Perhaps you had expected it to be somewhat shaky because of the importance of the moment, but you were sure and still. There was no nervousness here, just that calm, quiet comfortability you’d somehow always had with Spencer.

He slipped the ring onto your finger and it settled in its place. It fit perfectly, and you examined the ring in the light from the window. Spencer watched you closely.

“It’s so beautiful,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

He blushed and lowered his gaze. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Morgan said I should get this huge one, with like six stones in it.”

You laughed, imagining the two ring shopping together.

“Well, he may have his own taste, but you know mine,” you smiled.

Through the day, you couldn’t stop staring at your ring. You knew you had been engaged for about a week, but for some reason, seeing the proof on your finger made it even more real, and even more exciting.

You went with Spencer in the afternoon to sign the papers he needed to sign, relinquishing his assignment as a special agent. Hotch was there to oversee the signing, and while the focus should have been on Spencer, his gaze was on you. While Spencer signed, you shared a moment with Hotch, one you were sure could not have existed in words.

In his face, in his eyes, you read the importance of this moment. You saw how he knew this was right for you. While he and Haley managed to make it work, it wasn’t perfect, and he wanted that for you - a perfect life. He wanted that for his friend too. This job was important, sure, and Spencer would be a loss, but he would be training the best minds to come fill his place, and most of all, he could be happy with you.

When you emerged from Hotch’s office, the team was there. They weren’t on a case at the moment, but still sat at their desks, filling out paperwork and researching. Garcia wasn’t in the bullpen, but the rest were, and smiled at you as you descended the stairs from Hotch’s office.

Spencer lingered with Hotch in his office for a quick chat about the particulars of his leaving. Morgan was the first to embrace you as you walked up to the team.

“This is good, baby girl,” he whispered to you. “Congratulations.”

“I’m sorry I’m taking him away from you guys,” you offered. 

He shook his head.

“The BAU has survived without him before, we’ll manage to do it again. Besides, he always looked ridiculous with his revolver strapped to his hip like that,” Morgan teased. 

“Don’t be surprised if I show up to guest lecture from time to time,” Rossi said, stepping up to give you a hug as well. He smelled like cigar smoke and cologne, a surprisingly comforting aroma.

“I’m sure you’re welcome anytime,” you assured him. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Garcia walk into the room. She made a beeline for you.

“I’m mad at you for stealing him,” she pouted. “But I’m more mad that I won’t be seeing you around here as much,” she winked, pulling you into a hug. You chuckled. “Now, go make some Boy Wonder Juniors, eh?” she whispered. 

You blushed and pulled away, smiling at the thought that had been more and more present in your mind lately.

“With Spencer not here, who’s going to annoy me with random facts like… Light doesn’t necessarily travel at the speed of light?” Prentiss asked.

“The slowest we’ve ever recorded light moving at is 38 mph,” Spencer chimed in as he walked up behind you.

He snaked his hands around your waist and held you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You chuckled.

“Right, because we all need to know that to catch criminals,” Prentiss smirked.

“Well, I, for one, will miss his random facts,” JJ offered. “But I wish Will and I had the time together that you guys will have now.” She said it lightly enough, but you could tell she was burdened by the weight the job put on her relationship.

“When you get sick of him, remember who’s waiting with your daily dose of non-nerd entertainment,” Morgan grinned. 

Garcia hit him lightly in the arm.

“Leave them be, they are my nerd OTP,” she chastised. 

Morgan smiled at her warmly, and while no one else seemed to notice, he grabbed her hand to give it a little squeeze.

Hotch came down to where you were all standing, and stopped next to you and Spencer.

“Everything’s all set,” he said. “You are now officially a  _ former _ FBI special agent.”

Your heart felt lighter than it had in a long time, and you felt Spencer’s body relax somewhat.

“We should probably get going,” Spencer noted. 

“We have to get ready for my parents coming tomorrow,” you explained. “They don’t know about this,” you added, pointing to your ring.

“Very nice, by the way,” Rossi smiled warmly. 

“Could've been bigger,” Morgan smirked. You shook your head and laughed.

“We’ll see you guys later,” you offered. 

“Girl’s night soon!” Garcia called as you and Spencer turned to leave.

As you walked about of the building, you felt incredibly free. While you were thankful for Spencer’s job, and the opportunities it had given him, you were also aware of the damage it had caused him. You had managed to fill a few holes left by Tobias, and the many people Spencer had been unable to save, but you didn’t think a lifetime in the BAU would help him anymore than jumping into a fire would help a burn victim.

You readied the apartment together, cleaning up clothes off the floor, finding bookmarks to put in the books you’d left open on the couch and bedside tables. You went shopping for food and prepped for a few meals, as they would be staying a few days.

That night, you were anxious. Spencer was reading on the couch, but you paced the room, occasionally reorganizing the bookshelves without thinking about it.

“I don’t think Vonnegut would like to be so far away from Dostoevsky,” Spencer jested, as you moved one author away from another for no reason.

You stopped, realizing you were just giving yourself busy work so you didn’t think about anything.

“Oh he’d be fine,” you murmured. “He’d see it moved and say, ‘And so it goes.’”

Spencer said the author’s famous quote with you and pulled you out of your reverie. You smiled slightly, remembering the love you both shared for literature.

“Come here,” he offered. 

You slumped over to him as he put down his book. Sidling onto the couch, you laid half on top of him, half against the back of the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Aren’t you excited to see your parents?”

“Yeah,” you answered absently, pulling at a loose string on his shirt.

“Then what’s the matter? Why the shelf displacement?” he asked lightly.

“I don’t know,” you lamented. “I always get this way when I see them. I love them of course… But I just don’t have that… connection with them that most people do. I don’t think I ever have. I think there’s something wrong with me… And I don’t know why.”

He waited a moment, listening to this. 

“Whatever you feel towards them is probably earned,” he offered. 

“Maybe,” you conceded. “I hope you like them, though,” you added. 

“I would happily bow down to the people who created such a woman,” he smiled. 

“Bowing my be a bit much,” you winked. 

“A slight nod then.”

You gave him a thumbs up and settled happily on his chest. Somehow, even talking vaguely about your apprehensions with Spencer made it better.

You managed to get a few hours of sleep that night after you shut off your thoughts of the coming day. Your parent’s flight got in in the late afternoon, and you met them at the airport with flowers. They walked right to you, and your father swept you into a tight hug, as if trying with squeezing to make up for all the hugs you’d missed being apart. Your mother stood and waited her turn, smiling at Spencer politely. She hugged you as well, though not as tightly, and placed a kiss on your cheek that just barely touched you.

“Welcome to Quantico!” you beamed. “This is Spencer,” you said, gesturing to the man nervously standing beside you. Spencer waved. 

“Hello,” he smiled. 

“He doesn’t really shake hands,” you warned, when your father extended his hand. 

“Oh, that’s okay, actually,” Spencer said, shaking your father’s hand.

Surprised, due to his normal aversion to such germ-passing interactions, you smiled. He was already making an effort for them, even if they didn’t know how much it meant for him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” your mother said. 

“You too,” Spencer laughed nervously.

“Should we go back to our place then?” you suggested. 

Your parents agreed, and you gave your mother the flowers you’d gotten for them. While you realized, only then, that they would most likely end up living at your house if they survived the visit, you saw that your mother didn’t seem to mind and inspected them with a smile.

On the drive to your place, the main conversation revolved around their flight, and what traffic was like around here. It wasn’t a long trip back, and soon enough you were in your apartment with them. You offered to make some tea while everyone relaxed by the kitchen table.

“So, are you guys excited to spend the week with us?” you asked, turning on the electric kettle.

“Oh, honey, we’re only staying with you tonight and tomorrow,” your mom informed you. “We’ve got other friends around the area we have to stop in and see.”

“Oh,” you frowned. “When you said you were coming for a week, I just assumed…”

“We should have mentioned it,” your father dismissed. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you said.

This gave you less time to tell them than you had thought. You were looking forward to procrastinating, but you guessed that wasn’t on the table anymore. 

“So, what do you two do?” Spencer asked. “You seem to travel a lot.”

“Oh yes,” your father smiled. “I’m an engineer, and my wife is a translator.”

“I have a PhD in engineering,” Spencer smiled, casting a relieved glance your way. “Along with mathematics and chemistry.”

For some reason, your parent’s occupations had never entered into conversion, but you were glad that Spencer found this in common with him.

“Oh, wow,” your father laughed. “How old are you?” he asked, joking.

Spencer chuckled. 

“That’s a very impressive resume,” your mother noted. 

Spencer blushed. 

“I do what I can,” he offered. 

You stood at the counter, having dipped the tea bags into the mugs. You twisted the ring on your finger nervously back and forth. If they’d seen it, they didn’t seem to have an opinion.

You wanted to wait until they knew Spencer a little better before throwing this at them, so you made a point to hide your left hand, not being able to bear the thought of taking the ring off.

You served the tea and managed to mostly hide your left hand, at least not drawing attention to it.

“So, what kind of engineering do you do nowadays?” your father asked of Spencer. 

“Oh, um, not too much. I just switched professions actually, to teaching,” he answered.

“Teaching, a noble profession,” your mother noted. 

“I hope so,” Spencer smiled. 

“I had a teacher once that changed my life,” your father grinned. 

“Haven’t we all?” you smiled. 

Your father went on to regale his audience with tales of his teachers and his engineering days. It was nice to listen to his stories, and they were entertaining, but he hardly made it possible to slip a word in. Spencer was able to connect with your father more as he spoke of engineering terms and examples, and seemed to be having a genuinely good time with him. You sat quietly and watched them, hoping that your father saw that this man was worthy of your affections.

Once your father was finally done speaking about his experiences, Spencer asked your mother about her favorite teacher. This spawned a discussion of language and rhetoric, which Spencer was far more interested in than you. You’d had these conversations with your parents before. You were glad that at least Spencer seemed to be enjoying their company. While you were hesitant to tell them about the engagement, you still wanted some attention from your parents. They seemed to be more interested in talking about themselves. 

After tea, you started dinner, playing some music to fill the silences when they came. Overall, you thought the evening was going fairly well. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you in those silences though, and knew he wanted to tell them sooner rather than later, he was just waiting for you to bring it up.

While you were all sat at dinner, you decided it was now or never. Your parents were mostly done with their meals, and were sipping their wine lazily.

“Um, excuse me,” you said, tapping your fork on your glass lightly and drawing their attention away from their conversation about the weather. 

“Yes?” Your father smiled. “Would you like to make some kind of toast?”

“Um, sort of,” you blushed. You looked at Spencer who nodded slightly. “Well, the main reason I asked you guys to come visit is… that, um, Spencer and I are engaged,” you laughed nervously.

Smiles spread across your parent’s faces too easily, like the way you’d slip on a Halloween mask.

“Oh wow,” your father said, clapping his hands together. “Wow, wow.”

Your mother said nothing and looked at you for a moment. 

“Congratulations,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” Spencer said graciously. “It would mean a lot to me if we could have your blessing. I know you don’t know me well, but--”

“Of course,” your father cut in. “Of course, be happy together.”

Your mother smiled tightly, and nodded. 

“This calls for more wine,” your father said. 

Spencer filled up the three glasses. 

“To your future happiness,” your mother said. You all tapped your glasses together and took a sip.

You watched your mother carefully. She didn’t seem to disapprove, but nor did she seem as happy as you would have liked. When you thought about your friends’ reactions, you would have thought your own parents would express more joy for you. Sure, they didn’t know Spencer that well, but you had informed them of something you were very excited about. Your father’s reaction was more to your standards, but it just felt like something was missing, just as it always had.

With more small talk and some discussion of possible wedding details, your parents complained of being tired from their trip and wanted to retire early. You gave them your bedroom, neatly made with fresh sheets, while you and Spencer volunteered to sleep on the couch together. Your parents didn’t fight this, and you took some sheets for the couch and bid them goodnight.

It was still early, so you and Spencer read for a little bit. You could feel his eyes on you occasionally and when you caught him staring at you instead of his book, you put your book down.

“What?” you whispered.

You were far enough away from the bedroom so that there was no chance of your parents hearing you. 

“Nothing,” Spencer shook his head. 

You forced his book down, and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for a real answer. He sighed and moved closer to you so your faces were only a foot apart.

“I just… I’m glad you are the way you are,” he said, as if this might insult you.

“Thanks?” you almost laughed. 

He seemed to search for the words he said next. 

“I just… I see what you meant about not having that connection with your parents. They seem… distant, almost,” he said, watching your reaction carefully.

You sighed, wishing that he hadn’t sensed what you’d sensed. 

“I know,” you responded. 

“When we told them… they were happy, I suppose, but they didn’t ask how we met, how we got engaged, exactly how long we’ve been together… And I just… I’m glad you are the way you are. I’m glad that you’re caring and insightful and intuitive… Because, and I don’t mean to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to have come from them… It seems to just be purely you.”

He was fidgeting with his hands, wringing them together and not quite meeting your eye. You couldn’t deny what he said about your parents. Perhaps that is what you had always felt was missing - their empathy. They loved you, but they didn’t care to know what it felt like to be you. They didn’t care to ask those questions that Spencer had mentioned, and the sad thing was, you hadn’t really expected them to.

“Was that, um, rude?” Spencer asked, almost guiltily. 

“No,” you sighed. “That was accurate… And flattering,” you added with a small smile. “Looks like neither of us has perfect parents,” you added. Spencer chuckled. 

“I suppose not,” he said.

“I want them to be our family,” you said. “But… I also want  _ us _ to be our main family… You know?” you asked. 

“I do,” he smiled. “I will always share my life with  _ you _ first, others after.”

You smiled at this.

The two of you slept soundly on the couch and woke only when you heard your parents emerging from the bedroom. They had slept well too, and were glad to see you in the morning. The four of you made a plan for the day, starting by going to a local diner for breakfast, followed by a few museum and gallery tours. All the while your father and Spencer chatted away amicably, your father rambling on and on about his engineering school days and Spencer nodding and getting in a few anecdotes when he could. For the most part, you and your mother walked together, occasionally commenting on the art and museum exhibits.

The day passed quickly, and soon enough your parents were packing up, ready to head out to visit their other friends in the area. You had naively thought they might cancel their other visits once they learned of your engagement, but of course they did not. And you had come to the realization that you were alright with that.

While Spencer helped your father load their bags into a taxi, your mother wrapped your arms around you and pulled you into an unexpected and tight hug. 

“I am happy for you, you know,” she whispered. “I hope you find all the happiness in the world with him.”

Surprised by this uncharacteristic display of emotion, it took you a moment to recover. 

“I already have,” you answered honestly. 

She pulled away and looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen since you were a little girl. She kissed your forehead and joined your father by the taxi. After hugging your father, and watching Spencer shake his hand and exchange air cheek kisses with your mother, they got into the car and were driven away.

You sighed, leaning against Spencer. Your right hand went to your left, twisting your ring around your finger absently. 

“I’d call that a success,” you managed to say, standing back up straight to look at Spencer. 

“Me too,” he grinned. 

“Want to go fool around and then sleep?” you asked impishly. 

Spencer laughed and nodded, following you up to your apartment.

Walking past your old apartment, you saw the door was open. No one had been in there since you’d left all those months ago. You couldn’t help but glance inside and see a stunning woman setting up inside. Her hair was in perfect wavy curls, her skin the color of light coffee. 

“Oh, hello,” she said, noticing you and Spencer in the doorway. 

“Hi,” you laughed, embarrassed at your blatant staring. “We’re your neighbors, right here,” you pointed to your door. 

“I know,” a familiar voice behind you said. Turning, you saw Rossi walking down the hallway. “That’s why I told my daughter live here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you not wanting Spence to leave the BAU... sorry. BUT this doesn't mean you'll see less of the team, or that you won't be involved in some cases. I think with the way I've written this relationship so far, it makes sense for him to leave for you. that being said, he's not going to leave the BAU behind entirely, so don't worry too much about it.
> 
> and also thanks for the continuing support, it means the world to me :)


	37. Chapter 37

“Your… Daughter?” you repeated as Spencer stood dumbstruck beside you.

The woman came out into the hall and greeted her father with a hug. It didn’t seem quite a natural gesture, but there was affection there, even if it seemed new.

“Long story,” Rossi smiled. “But the short of it is, old flame, tenacious daughter.”

He looked happily at the woman.

“I’m Joy,” she said, extending her hand to you. “You must be Spencer and (Y/N).”

“We are,” Spencer smiled, taking her hand and shaking it. You were surprised and happy he did so, and you followed suit. 

“It’s so nice to meet you. Dad didn’t want me living just anywhere down here,” she laughed. 

“So you’re moving in today?” you asked. 

“Just temporarily. My husband and son and I live a ways away, but I wanted to be able to visit often, and Dad offered to rent this for me,” she explained.

“Well, welcome,” you offered. 

“Thanks,” she smiled. She looked behind her at all her boxes. “I should really get to unpacking,” she noted. 

“Do you need any help?” Spencer asked.

“Oh no, she’s got me,” Rossi answered proudly.

He looked younger than he had in a long time as he stepped towards the open apartment door. 

“You two go on and have a good night, we’ll catch up soon,” Rossi winked as he slipped into the apartment.

“It was nice meeting you,” Joy waved as she closed the door.

“You two,” you said. 

Walking into your apartment, you had to think for a moment about what just happened.

“Rossi has a daughter?” you asked, as if you might have dreamed it. 

Spencer shrugged. 

“He’s had three wives, I suppose it was bound to happen.”

“But one that he didn’t know about for like thirty years?” you asked. 

“Better late than never?” he guessed. 

“Well, I’ll be interested to hear that story anyway,” you chuckled. 

“Me too,” he smiled. 

You were looking around the kitchen when he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. Tucking you close against him, he kissed your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Moaning at the pleasant sensation, you turned and he peppered kisses along your neck in the process. You met his lips with yours and soon enough he picked you up and carried you into the bedroom. 

When he was inside you, eliciting moans and whimpers, you couldn’t help but glance at your ring as your fingers dug slightly into his back. You would be with this man for the rest of your life. He would be yours to have forever. The thought made you tingly, along with his hands that found just the right spots to hold you. 

After thoroughly exhausting yourselves, you fell back onto the bed, and fell asleep almost instantly.

You woke up to a group text from Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ the next morning. 

_ I’m hosting a happy engagement party for (Y/N). Attendance is mandatory. Next weekend, everyone at my place for a boozy bash. _

Prentiss and JJ had already responded with affirmative responses, and you gladly added your own.

The week was spent mostly with Spencer, getting ready to go back to teaching. He created slides, made lesson plans, and thought up some homework assignments. You helped him when he needed input and distracted him when he got too tense looking at horrible crime scene images. 

When you weren’t with Spencer, you frequently visited Joy in your old apartment. She explained how her step-father had told her on his deathbed that he wasn’t her biological parent. This spawned a search for Rossi, and they had been getting to know each other ever since. You were glad that she seemed as impressed and smitten with Rossi as you were, and were excited for them to get to know each other. Rossi stopped by a few times after work when you happened to be over, and you could tell that this friendship was something he had wanted for you and his daughter.

You invited Joy to the girl’s night at Garcia’s, but her husband and son were coming down to spend time with her and Rossi that weekend. When Morgan heard of your plan to go to Garcia’s for the night, he and Hotch promised to come over for a boys night.

You packed your bag for the night, knowing that Garcia wouldn’t allow you to leave, even if it were late at night. She had a whole night planned in addition to the morning. Kissing Spencer goodbye, and hearing Morgan tease you with kissy noises in the background, you left Spencer to his boy’s night.

You were the first to arrive at Garcia’s and she took your bag from you, giving you a plastic crown to wear.

“What’s this for?” you asked, giggling at the thing that was probably meant for a child’s dress up chest.

“It’s for you, your highness. Not just Spencer gets to treat you like the queen you are, I get to do so tonight too.”

You laughed and accepted the crown with a curtsey. When she went to start making some cocktails, you used the bathroom. On the sink, lay a man’s razor, and two tooth brushes. Puzzled, you looked in the shower. A pink razor lay on the shelf. So why the two? Then it hit you, and you nearly squealed with joy. You grabbed the man’s razor and walked out of the bathroom, holding it up and smirking.

“Hm, I wonder why you would need two razors and two tooth brushes,” you pretended to muse. 

Garcia’s face, which had had a smile on it, dropped to a slack-jawed awe.

“I thought I got everything!” she exclaimed, rushing over to you to steal the razor away.

“So things with Morgan are good then?” you asked smugly.

“Things with my personal Prince of Chocolatey Goodness are  _ secret, _ ” she said in a hushed tone. 

“Why?” you asked. “And I hardly think it’s secret from a group of profilers.”

“I’m a better actress than you think,” she grinned. “Plus, it doesn't matter as long as they can’t prove it.”

“It’s not allowed then?” you guessed.

She frowned.

“I’m sure I could find a loophole, but generally, fraternization is discouraged.”

You mirrored her disappointed expression.

“Well, maybe the secrecy makes it hotter,” you chided. 

She smiled at this.

“It certainly can get steamy at times,” she winked.

Your giggling was interrupted by a knock at the door. You quickly hid the remainders of the incriminating evidence in a closet. Opening the door, you found Prentiss and JJ, each poised with a bottle of liquor and a smile. 

“Who’s ready to celebrate?” they asked in synchronization.

Garcia squealed and let them inside. They each hugged you and told you again how happy they were that you were officially joining their family.

“Nice tiara,” Prentiss noted drolly. You blushed. 

“You’re just jealous I didn’t get you one,” Garcia said. Then, after a pause, “Or didn’t I?”

Grinning mischievously, she went to a plastic bag in the corner of the room and pulled out three smaller crowns. 

“Because we are all goddess queens who deserve the best,” she explained. 

JJ happily put on her crown, while Prentiss grudgingly obliged. 

“Alright, I need the booze,” Prentiss decided, making a beeline for the prepared cocktails.

After pointing to her various fruity options, Prentiss opened the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and poured a sizable glass.

You, Garcia, and JJ settled on the margaritas Garcia had prepared, JJ taking the virgin one, and adjourned to the couch and chairs in the living room to chat.

“So, any tips on married life?” you asked JJ once you were all settled.

“Ah, well… Nothing that’s going to be applicable to you,” she laughed.

While she wasn’t showing yet, you could sense something different about her. You could just sense that she would be an excellent mom.

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused.

“Well, I would say that you need to make time for each other when you have the kinds jobs Will and I do, but Spencer’s leaving, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

While she seemed happy she didn’t need to relay this advice, you could also tell she was going to miss him.

“And the other thing was just to tell each other everything,” she said. “There are times when things get… dark to say the least, and not sharing those things can put up giant walls between you. But you and Spencer have always shared everything with each other, and faster than I’ve ever seen him open up to anyone.”

You blushed, feeling the compliment hidden under her impressed tone. 

“So… You think we’ll be okay?” you asked.

While you hadn’t had any doubts, you couldn’t lie and say you had no trepidations about the future. 

JJ shook her head, and Garcia and Prentiss made dissenting hums.

“For a long time I didn’t think anyone was good enough for Reid,” JJ said. “And I didn’t think he would  _ let _ anyone be good enough for him. But then you came along out of the blue, and he took to you like I’ve never seen him with anyone. Something about you and him, just fits right.”

You could feel your cheeks still flushed, and looked at JJ with an appreciative gaze.

“Thanks,” you muttered. 

“And apparently you are both satisfactory in the bedroom,” Prentiss raised her eyebrows suggestively, taking a sip.

“What?” you laughed.

“Rossi may have overheard a few things when the two of you were… alone next door to his daughter.”

If your cheeks were red before, they darkened severely. Rossi had heard you. You hid your face in your hands as the girls laughed.

“He was happy for you,” Prentiss offered, unable to hide the smile on her face.

“Oh god, I am so embarrassed,” you blushed.

“Ah, don’t be. Rossi’s Italian, he appreciates that kind of thing,” Garcia smirked. 

“Can we  _ please _ change the subject?” you pleaded.

“As you wish, your majesty,” Garcia nodded. “Who else would like to put forth their love life for interrogation?”

All eyes went to Prentiss who shifted uncomfortably with the sudden spotlight.

“Oh, um, not much to report,” she muttered, sipping from her glass.

“Not much, but not nothing,” JJ pointed out. 

Prentiss frowned at her phrasing.

“Fine,” she said, exasperated. “There’s this one person… At my usual coffee shop…”

“The girl with the red hair and the tattoo right below her ear?” Garcia asked, excited. Prentiss sighed and nodded resignedly. “She’s so cute!” Garcia smiled.

“And like half my age,” Prentiss laughed.

“No, she’s only seven years younger than you,” Garcia assured Prentiss. You all looked on with quizzical looks. “I may have looked her up when I saw you guys together that morning we got coffee together a while ago,” Garcia shrugged. 

“Garcia!” Prentiss playfully hit her. “I can’t believe that!”

“I’m just looking out. And by the way, you’re her type.”

Prentiss pretended to be outraged, but you could tell she was actually quite pleased by this.

“Looks like we’re getting coffee tomorrow morning,” JJ smirked.

“Shut up,” Prentiss smiled.

You texted Spencer later in the evening to find that he, Hotch, and Morgan were having a grand time together. After wishing him a goodnight, you put your phone away and focused on the ladies. The rest of the night consisted of a good deal of drinking and snacking, some late night Chinese food, and a short game of poker.

Eventually, you all passed out in various soft places in Garcia’s apartment. You and Garcia had ended up in her bed, Prentiss and JJ managed to share the couch. 

Waking up in the late morning, nearly afternoon, you heard the groggy sounds of Garcia and the girls as they made their way to the coffee pot. Gloriously, the only thing resembling a hangover for you was an intense thirst for water. Easily finding some, you were soothed, and sighed happily. Prentiss and Garcia were not so lucky. Streaked makeup and pale faces met your gaze, along with a still completely sober JJ.

“Sleep okay?” you asked them.

“Why are you so perky?” Prentiss asked with a look of what you might have called contempt.

You shrugged, pouring everyone some coffee. 

“Good genes I guess,” you offered. 

“My genes are nauseous,” Garcia complained, rifling through her cabinets to find some bagels.

“Me too,” Prentiss agreed. “Feels unfair that JJ and (Y/N) aren’t.”

“I’m pregnant,” JJ pointed out, laughing.

“Well, that’s excusable. But she drank as much as the rest of us and is fine!” Prentiss said, nearly outraged. You chuckled and sent her an apologetic look.

Garcia toasted the bagels and spread out a choice of toppings ranging from peanut butter to cream cheese to jelly. You all ate, allowing the carbs to soak up any remaining alcohol. Once you had eaten, you felt better, and the color seemed to be returning to the girls’ faces.

“So, are you going to get any coffee this morning?” you winked at Prentiss. 

She sighed and shook her head.

“Maybe,” she answered. “Alone,” she added pointedly, casting a warning glance at all of you.

“Understood,” Garcia said, hands up in defense.

Prentiss did, in fact, end up leaving before the rest of you to get her coffee with the extracted guarantee that she would divulge any outcomes of her adventures. JJ left soon after that. You helped Garcia clean up and left after she had collapsed on the couch, claiming that she would do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day.

Arriving at your apartment, you saw Joy locking up her place. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

She finished locking her door and turned to you with a smile.

“Hi,” she said.

“Off to somewhere fun?” you asked. 

“Oh, just meeting my husband, he’s already at the park with Rossi and Kai.”

“Very fun,” you smiled, getting your keys out.

Joy followed you as you walked past, her features conveying hesitance. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“Nothing… It’s just… Um, late last night, I sort of heard like muffled screams?”she said cautiously. “It kind of sounded like they were coming from your apartment, but when I got up to go do something about it, they stopped.”

You swallowed and nodded, having had the exact experience she had more than a year ago now.

“Yeah, um… Sorry about that. Spencer has… nightmares,” you said, not sure how much to tell her.

“Oh,” she said, almost embarrassed. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured her. “He doesn’t do as well without me.”

“You two really do make each other whole, huh?” she said, almost to herself.

“What?” you asked.

“Something my dad mentioned when he talked about you guys,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I have to run. Catch you later.”

“Have fun,” you waved. 

Your stomach had started churning when she mentioned the screaming. The thought that you were out galavanting the night away while Spencer was alone and scared made you feel guilty. Entering the apartment, you found Spencer laying on the couch, reading. 

His face showed no sign that he had survived a night of terror, and instead smiled brightly up at you as he got off the couch.

He kissed your forehead in greeting, and you tried to muster a smile for him.

“How was the party?” Spencer asked.

“It was fun,” you replied, searching his face.

“What’s wrong?” he laughed nervously.

You shifted, feeling guilty that you knew something he didn’t seem to want you to know.

“I ran into Joy in the hallway,” you frowned. “She, uh, said she hear some screaming last night through the walls.”

He swallowed and looked down at his hands. 

“Oh,” was his response.

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s still bad when I go away?” you asked. 

You had honestly started to forget that nightmares were even an issue for him, that they had been the catalyst for your relationship.

“I didn’t want you to feel badly if you wanted to spend the night away,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

You sighed. Of course he would think that way. He would put you before his well-being.

“I didn’t know it still bothered you so much,” you said softly, carefully. 

“It doesn’t… most of the time,” he said, not quite meeting your gaze.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, gently leading him over to the kitchen chairs.

He sighed heavily and sank into the seat.

“It’s changed as of late,” he said morosely. 

You waited patiently as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes glued to the table.

“Now it’s not me in that cabin anymore… It’s you.”

You swallowed hard and took a deep breath. 

“It’s me,” you repeated. He nodded. 

You didn’t know what to say. You could say that of course that would never happen, of course you were safe from Tobias, from his alters. But you weren’t, not to Spencer’s subconscious at least. His mind had plagued him with his worst fears of the experience, and they’d now twisted to involve you.

“Is it bad?” you asked, not knowing what else to say. 

He nodded. 

“He tortures you, sometimes kills you.”

“You know I’m right here,” you promised. “He can’t touch me.”

At this, he looked up, his eyes searching for something. 

“I know,” he answered quietly. 

“Does it still happen when I’m here too?” you asked. 

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But only when I’m stressed.”

You hoped his career change would eliminate a lot of that stress, but the fact that he was still having nightmares was concerning.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

He never seemed to thrash or scream with you, so you’d had no idea until now. And what if you hadn’t met Joy in the hallway, or she hadn’t heard him. Would he have kept this from you forever?

“I don’t know,” Spencer said. “I was doing so well for a while, I didn’t want you to think I was…” he trailed off. 

“I would never think you were weak,” you finished his thought.

He sighed heavily and nodded slowly.

“It just felt like…”

“I’m sorry,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m sorry that this happened to you, and that you can’t get rid of him.”

“Maybe I deserve it,” he said after a moment of silence. 

You pulled back to look at him.

“Why would you say that?”

“I did kill the man,” he pointed out.

“After he tortured you,” you countered. 

“After Raphael and Tobias’ father tortured me.”

You frowned. This was more complicated than you were anticipating.

“Still,” you said. “It’s not your fault you were put in that position. You don’t deserve to be punished for this or anything else.”

“I just look at everything I have now, especially you, and know that he and everyone else I’ve hurt because of my job, everyone I couldn’t save, won’t have that.”

You bit your lip, feeling your battle going uphill instead of down. It didn’t seem likely you could convince him of his worthiness for happiness.

“I’m not sure I can help you with that,” you answered honestly. “ _ I _ know you deserve happiness. Even if it takes our whole lives, I’ll be around to see it when you finally figure it out too.”

He smiled slightly at this, some parts of his face still lined with sadness.

“I am happy,” he admitted. “Even if I feel a little guilty about it.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you kissed him. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m happy too, even if I don’t feel guilty about it,” you smirked.

“It’s worth everything,” Spencer said softly, brushing his lips against yours. “It’s worth everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I'm the worst at updating, and sorry if there's any grammatical errors and stuff bc I don't have a ton of time to edit them! Thanks for keeping up with it though! I will definitely keep the chapters coming and let you know if I plan to stop at any point, they just might be a bit spread out! But thanks so much for the ongoing love!


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which I attempt smut and cringe (hopefully just cuz I'm ace, and not cuz it sucks)

While you had had continuous freelance work for several magazines, Spencer was busy compiling his plan for the semester. He had taught before, of course, but not at the full time level, and not as a professor, just as a guest lecturer. You helped him shape the course, telling him what you had found worked best for you in school. You toned down the reading assignments, reminding him that not everyone could read as quickly as he could.

He was nervous the night before his first class, and you decided it would be a good idea to have him practice his lecture.

“I can’t,” he whined as you sat on the bed, pretending to be poised to take notes.

“Why?” you laughed.

“I feel silly,” he complained. 

“I’ve seen you teach before,” you reminded him. 

“I know, but that was different.”   
“How?” you prompted.

“I don’t know… I was just a guest lecturer then. It was a specific topic, a rehearsed speech. This is going to be different, more immersive, and more improvisational.”

“If you practice, you’ll be more prepared for the parts that you do have to improvise,” you pointed out.

He frowned, unable to find a decent rebuttal.

“I don’t know,” he wavered. 

A sly smile appearing on your face, you stood up and walked over to him. You ran your finger along his jawline and over his lips.

“How about this,” you said in a low voice. “You give your lecture, and for every time you get through a topic well, I’ll take off an item of clothing. For every stutter or nervous tic, it goes back on?”

You bit your lip, watching him swallow and smile slightly. 

“You’re trying to engage me with positive reinforcement,” he noted. 

“Is it working?” you asked, biting your lip. Another swallow and rapid blinking.

“Yes,” he answered resignedly. 

Giving a small giggle, you returned to your seat on the bed. You had been cold that day, so you were wearing a sweatshirt, a shirt, pants, and socks, over your usual bra and panties. Getting comfortable, you settled in for the rehearsal lecture.

Spencer cleared his throat. 

“Good morning, class. Today we’ll be learning about dominant and submissive partnerships.”

His eyes grazed over the bedroom as if he were making eye contact with far more students than just you. His gaze flicked to you and you nodded in encouragement.

“Now, normally, the dominant partner will be older, although in rare cases, they can be younger. Typically males are dominant over females, but once in awhile you will find a dominant woman, usually older than the male or other female.”

You pointedly took off your sock. He tried to keep from laughing.

He continued on with a few easy points, confidently conveying the information he had planned. You were down to your shirt, bra, and panties now.

“Partnerships can be formed in a variety of ways,” he said, licking his lips as his eyes glanced over your bare thighs. “Sometimes they’re born of, um... opportunity,” he stumbled.

You had deliberately caused this stumble by opening your legs to him. While you were still wearing your underwear, the movement caused a break in Spencer's attention. Tsking him, you made to put your pants back on.

“Not fair,” Spencer complained.

“You stumbled,” you countered.

“Because you deliberately distracted me.”

“What if a kid’s phone rings, or someone gets up to pee?” you asked.

Spencer frowned.

“I hardly think it’s the same thing.”

You grinned, putting your pants back on.

“Well, won’t you be happy when that does happen, and you don’t get distracted then.”

Rolling his eyes, he continued with the lecture almost perfectly. He had you down to your panties by the end of the lecture, and he finished it off asking if there were any questions.

You raised your hand, and Spencer’s gaze tried its hardest to stay on your face, but failed miserably. 

“Professor?” you asked innocently. 

“Yes?” he answered after clearing his throat.

You stood and walked up to him, pressing your near-naked body against him. 

“Is all this going to be on the final?” you asked, brushing your lips against his.

You felt him shudder minutely, and smiled. 

“Um, uh, yes, probably. Yes,” he answered. 

You took a step back and arched an eyebrow. 

“Oh come on,” he nearly beggedd. “I didn’t mean to… I, I--”

Giggling, you slipping off your panties and walked back over to him, kissing him fully and tangling your hands in his hair. 

“You did wonderfully, professor,” you promised. 

You felt him relax into you and he chuckled.

“That was very cruel,” he said. 

“Well, let me be kind now, then,” you grinned.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled as you began to unbutton his shirt. You gently guided him to the bed and he sat down, unsheathing himself from his shirt. With his bare chest exposed, you pushed him back onto the bed and started on his pants.

He was already hard and you carefully removed his pants and boxers, exposing him. Taking him in your mouth, you watched as his head fell back and he arched into you. You slowly built your pace, watching his movements to determine how close he was. His hand fisted gently in your hair, urging you onward, and you obliged your professor. He came soon after, and you took it all, swallowing with a sly smile when you’d finished. He lay helpless and satiated beneath you, eyes clothes, breathing evening out. It somehow thrilled you to have that kind of power over him. To make him cum with just your mouth, your lips, your tongue. You reveled in it.

Laying back in bed, you looked over at your drowsy professor. He seemed utterly content lying there naked beside you. You wondered how much it took for him to stand in front of that many people and speak. Still, he seemed to enjoy teaching, and you knew the students were all better off because of him.

Waking up early with him, you drove the two of you to his class. It was an 8am, and you bitterly reminded him how much you loved him to wake up that early. Once you saw him in that vest and jacket, converse donned, and hair mildly tamed, you knew it was worth the early alarm.

The class went really well, and Spencer was nearly perfect. You reflected back on the first time he taught, and the panic attacks that had ensued. You saw no sign of them this time, and marveled at how well he was healing after only a year and some change.

You sat in the first row, and Spencer would often talk to you, as if drawing strength from teach to one person he knew well before returning to the others. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he’d have been a nervous wreck, unable to connect with the kids. But his passion for the subject, and seemingly unlimited knowledge engaged the kids in a way you’d seen few professors do for you.

All week you accompanied him to his classes, sometimes working while he taught and letting his voice drift into the back of your mind as you wrote. The week went well, but you could tell it was a little tiring getting used to the two classes a day for a week schedule. 

However, you were always home at the same time now, and you always woke at the same time. And all the while, Spencer was there. There was no looming threat of a plane taking him away for weeks at a time, and you hadn’t realized how much it had felt like an ax on a loose string, until it was no longer dangling over your head.

An advantage that Spencer had over the other professors, was his ability to read mountains of papers in no time. This also allowed you more time to spend with him than it would have if he didn’t have such a brain for words.

On Friday, Spencer got a call after class as you were driving the two of you home. You only heard his half of the conversation, his excited, almost nervous voice agreeing to something, before he hung up.

“What was that?” you asked.

“My mother’s care home is taking them on a trip to DC,” he said excitedly. “The mobile and qualified patients are being brought to tour the sights, and my mother has gotten permission to skip the last day and hang out with me.”

The smile on his face was genuine, and he seemed very excited about the prospect.

“That’s awesome,” you grinned. “What are you guys gonna do?”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll want to see you again,” he said. 

“I’d love to see her too,” you agreed. “But I also don’t want to get in the way of the mother-son bonding time. What if we had lunch and then I gave you guys the rest of the day?”

You parked outside your apartment and looked at him. He was smiling lovingly at you.

“That’d be nice,” he said softly. 

You texted Morgan to see what he was up to that day, and made plans to hang out provided nothing crazy happened in the world of criminals.

When it came to the day, you welcomed Diana into your apartment around lunch time. You’d prepared her favorite meal, per Spencer’s request, and held the doors as Spencer led her inside.

“It’s good to see you again, Diana,” you smiled at her. 

She wore a sweater that looked like a well used blanket, elastic jeans, and sneakers. She looked at you for a moment, confused, before placing you.

“You’re that girl from the pictures Spencer always sends me,” she said finally. 

You glanced at Spencer, unsure what to say in response.

“You’ve met her, Mom,” Spencer reminded her gently. “In Vegas, remember? She came out when we went through Riley Jenkins’ case?”

Daina thought for a moment and the shook her head casually.

“Nope, nothing.” Then, sensing your mildly hurt feelings, she added, “Don’t feel bad, those who do make an impression are usually the ones I  _ want _ to forget.”

Letting out a small laugh, you nodded, unable to hold it against her that she didn’t remember you.

“I was telling Mom in the car that we’re going to be married soon,” Spencer explained, pulling out a chair for his mother.

She sat down and nodded, you and Spencer took the other chairs.

“I said to him, ‘If you get married, make sure you know what kind of cheese she likes.”

Spencer pressed his lips together, suppressing a laugh.

“A good marriage always comes down to a cheese preference,” she continued. “You can tell a lot about a person by that. Should have known when your father’s favorite was havarti.”

You chuckled and Spencer shook his head and smiled. 

Your visit went well, and you spent a majority of the time catching Diana up on what had happened in Spencer’s career. She was thrilled at the prospect of him teaching. She was excited that he was following in her footsteps, and you could see why this career path had been an easy transition for him now.

A little after four, Morgan came calling, and Diana remarked that he was rather handsome, despite Spencer’s eye rolling, and Morgan’s subsequent grinning.

Promising to return you at the end of the night, Morgan took you out. The two of you walked around for a while, as it was nice weather, and you had no particular plan. After rummaging through a few thrift stores and dragging him into some bookstores, you chose a place for dinner. It was a sit down restaurant, not too fancy, but no fast food joint either. 

Settling down and enjoying your meal, you and Morgan chatted easily.

“Thanks for taking me out,” you smiled across the small table.

“Anytime,” he said easily. “It’s nice to be out.”

“You guys don’t get much time off, huh?” you commiserated.

“You know we don’t,” he gave a sly smile.    
“Well, I’ve forgotten these past few weeks,” you smirked, pretending to stretch in the luxury of time you now had with Spencer.

Morgan chuckled and shook his head. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “All that time to read together and do puzzles, or whatever it is you two do together.”

“Puzzles?” you giggled.

“I don’t know,” he laughed. “Seems like something Spencer would make you do with him.”

“Um, I would  _ willingly _ do a puzzles,” you corrected. “And surprisingly, we haven’t, but thanks for the idea.”

Morgan laughed again and took a bite of his steak.

“You must make good use of your time off,” you noted. “What do you do to unwind?”

Morgan’s eyes lit up and he smiled.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he winked. You giggled. “But I’ll let you in on one secret. I restore houses.”

“What?” you smiled. “Like flip them?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he shrugged. “I like building things, making somewhere nicer than what it was. After catching so many people who destroy things, I want to create something good that will last longer than any pain they’ve caused in the world.”

You sighed, smiling at your friend.

“That’s really beautiful,” you responded wistfully.

“Yeah, well, I’m a deep guy, what can I say,” he smirked. 

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, but still held that gaze with him, admiring the man that sat before you.

“A house,” you mused. “I suppose one day we’ll make it into one of those. Like real adults.”

Morgan laughed. 

“I’m not sure I could ever see Spencer as a real adult. Even when he’s eighty, he’ll always be a kid to me.”

“Am I a child too then?” you smirked. 

“You’re like, my kid brother’s best friend, the kind that gets married under the biggest pine tree at recess,” he assessed. 

“Well, I always wanted an older brother-in-law,” you smiled. 

“You got it,” he grinned. “Any chance Penelope’s going to budge on that whole maid of honor thing?” he added. 

“I doubt it,” you laughed. “But you’re welcome to try and convince her.”

He shook his head. 

“Nah, that woman’s got jaws of steel when she bites into an idea,” he said, admiringly.

“True,” you agreed.

He looked at your for a second before asking, “Is that what you want?”

“What, Garcia?” you asked, confused at his serious tone.

“No,” he said. “A house, the whole picket fence and two kids thing.”

“Oh,” you startled. “I don’t know… I guess, maybe. Sounds cliche, but it’d be nice to have a yard and a dog, maybe some little ones too. Never thought I’d want it, but now…”

“You found a reason to want it,” he finished for you, sounding as if he knew the feeling.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I want a lot of things for us. And this,” you gestured to your engagement ring, “Is just the beginning.”

Morgan smiled.

“I’m proud of you guys,” he said. “I’m proud of  _ you _ .”

You blushed, truly feeling like your older brother was proud of you. 

“I -- I didn’t really do anything,” you said. 

“Being with a profiler is no easy deal,” he countered. “Especially one who’s been through so much. And to get him to a place where he felt comfortable leaving, settling down… That takes a hell of a woman,” he said, ending his speech with a sip of his beer.

“Well, it takes a hell of a friend to stick with him too,” you reminded him. “I remember you sitting in my kitchen a long time ago, because you’d made a promise to be there, and you were, even when he wasn’t. And you didn’t give up.”

Morgan’s lips twitched upwards.

“He’s come a long way,” he said. 

“And now we have a nice, long road ahead of us,” you smiled. 

He held up his beer and said, “To the Boy Genius.”

You clinked your glasses.

The night went on nicely after that with dessert and a short walk in the lamplights of the streets. There was something easy about being with Morgan, something you hadn’t felt with many men like him. He eventually drove you back to your apartment and walked you upstairs. 

You opened the door to find a myriad of blankets covering the room. A fort. Smiling, you turned to see Morgan’s reaction. He looked confused, but then his features relaxed into a look of bewildered acceptance.

“I’ll leave you to this then,” he laughed softly.

“Thanks for the night out.”

A head popped out of the tent, and looked up at you.

“Back so soon?” Spencer asked.

“We were gone for like four hours,” you laughed.

“Has it been that long?” he asked, climbing out and dusting himself off.

Morgan ruffled Spencer’s hair and Spencer swatted him away, putting his hair back the way he liked it.

“Where’s Mama Genius?” Morgan asked. 

“One of the nurses came to pick her up about a half hour ago,” Spencer explained.

“Did you have fun?” you asked. 

He smiled and nodded. 

“She’s doing well,” he said. 

“And all this?” Morgan asked, pointing to the fort. 

“It’s a long story,” Spencer dismissed, looking at you. 

“Well, I’m sure the two of you have a lot of googly eyes to make at each other, so I’m going to call it a night,” Morgan said. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, sir,” you smiled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before stepping next to Spencer. He wrapped his arm around your waist.

Morgan looked at the two of you as if deciding something, nodded slightly to himself and then waved and left the apartment.

You kissed Spencer the moment he was gone and stepped back, smiling at him.

“So, you guys built a fort, huh? Like old times?”

“Yeah,” he smiled fondly. “Not to hide away from anything… Just to be together,” he said.

You looked at the fort, remembering the one you’d built with him all that time ago. Although they had different meanings of course - yours had been an intimate joining, and his mother’s had been a revival of childhood - the core meaning remained the same: a safe space for vulnerability.

“Did your mom say anything about me?” you asked, refusing to resist the urge to ask.

“She said you’re far too pretty to be so nice,” he laughed. “And I think that’s a good thing?”

“I’ll take it,” you decided. 

He smiled. 

“How was dinner with Morgan?” he asked. “Should I be nervous?”

While he might have actually meant that question in the beginning of your relationship, you knew it was in complete jest now. 

“Oh, yeah,” you teased. “Those big muscles could just sweep me off my feet.”

Grinning impishly, he gave you almost not warning before rushing towards you and wrapping his arms around you, picking you up to spin you around in a circle before landing you back on your feet.

“Like that?” he asked.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Consider me swept,” you answered.


	39. Chapter 39

With the change in Spencer’s career, and the chaos that was your freelancing career, neither of you had had the time to consider what to do for an actual wedding. Finally, one night, you sat down, ready to talk details. 

“Nothing big,” you put out there, hating the idea of something huge and pageantry-like.

“Agreed,” he said, sighing with relief.

“And the cake’s gotta be chocolate,” you threatened. He held up his hands in defense.

“No debate there,” he smiled. 

You slumped onto the bed, not knowing what else you’d want out of your wedding. 

“Maybe we just go to city hall?” you suggested. 

It seemed impersonal, but you didn’t have much of an idea elsewise. You weren’t one of those girls who pinned a thousand wedding ideas for the day they tied the knot, although now you were wishing you were. He frowned, throwing himself onto the bed next to you.

“Seems a little clinical,” he noted. You nodded in agreement.

“We’re not really church people,” you added. He shook his head. 

There was silence as you ruminated. 

“There’s always an outdoor ceremony,” he offered. 

“Yeah,” you answered noncommittally.

Again there was silence, and you rolled over to face him.   
“Sorry I’m not very good at this. I feel like this should have been my dream since I was a little girl or something, but I feel disappointed in myself that I don’t have a clear picture of what I want.”

“I never thought I’d get married,” he said. “So I’m in the same boat.”

“You never once thought about it?” you asked. “There wasn’t anyone at any time, that you even considered?”

“Oh sure,” he said, a sly smile on his lips. “But Jane Austen wouldn’t have wanted that, there’s quite the evidence to support Emily Dickinson would not have preferred me, and Mary Shelley was too smart for me.”

You grinned at him and chuckled.  

“I guess we have time to figure it out. I’m certainly not going anywhere,” you smiled. 

“Me either,” he grinned, kissing your forehead.

As the two of you thought throughout the week, neither of you were able to come up with any brilliant ideas. You’d even gone so far as to reach out to Morgan for an idea, after coming up dry with the girls, but his ideas were far too much to his taste than to yours.

“I do have a surprise for you, though,” Morgan had said after you had rejected all of his ideas.

“Oh really?” you asked, leaning over your Chinese food, intrigued. 

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to his friend, lowering his fork as Morgan playfully clicked his chopsticks.

“Maybe,” he grinned. 

“Is it the kind of surprise that ends with dessert?” Spencer asked, clearing your and his empty dish from the table. “Because that’s what I could go for right now.”

“Better,” Morgan promised.

“Better than cake? You talk a big game,” you teased. 

He smiled knowingly and got up to put his dish in the sink. 

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” he said. “But you can’t ask any questions.”

“I love surprises,” you squealed. “Is it a puppy?”

“Better,” he smiled. 

You gasped and turned to Spencer. He was looking at Morgan closely, profiling, you guessed. 

“Well, you better deliver then,” you said. 

“Have I ever failed you before?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you agreed. 

“Well then, you have nothing to fear.”

Spencer walked over to you and slipped a hand around your waist. 

“I’ll text you in the morning,” Morgan promised, gathering his things. 

“Can’t wait,” you smiled. 

“Nighty night, love birds,” he grinned, and made his way out the door.

“What do you think that was about?” Spencer asked, once he had gone.

“Who knows, could be a pony for all we know,” you laughed.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the door, as if he could see Morgan walking away on through the wood.

“I know that smile,” Spencer said. “He’s up to something big.”

“Well, we’ll see in the morning,” you said.

Going to bed that night felt like the night before Christmas. Although he had given no details, Morgan’s attitude made it seem like there was big news on the horizon. You managed to fall asleep and awoke to a text in the late morning.

_ 145 Castlewood Drive _

Was all it said.

You texted back, asking if this was the place he would like to meet, or if he simply typed an address, thinking it was a navigational app instead of a text. When you heard no response, you curiosity kicked in. You googled the address and found that it was just outside town, in a little suburb. Persuading Spencer to leave, you drove the two of you twenty minutes to the residential neighborhood. Pulling up to the address, you noted the house’s beauty. A two story sprawling house stood in a near perfect yard with trees and a small garden. The Victorian style was accented by the green vines that tangled themselves on the face of the house. Large windows let in much of the morning light, and you took Spencer’s hand as you exited your car. You saw Morgan’s car in the driveway and wondered what could possibly be going on. 

As you approached the house, the grand front door opened. Inside the threshold, Morgan stood, well dressed, and grinning.

“(Y/N), Pretty Boy,” he greeted, gesturing for you to come inside. 

You walked cautiously, feeling like there was a large piece of information you were missing.

“What’s going on?” you asked, stepping into the open foyer.

Morgan closed the door behind you and walked you into the empty room beside the foyer - a living room, if it were furnished. You could smell the new paint and see the flawless new hardwood floors.

“Do you remember what I told you I do in my spare time?” he asked. 

“You restore houses,” you recalled. “Is this one of yours?” you asked.

He smiled but did not answer your question.

“Do you remember why I do it?”

“Because you wanted to build something good, make something that would outlast the evil in the world,” you answered.

He nodded. You could feel Spencer’s brain working, trying to figure out what the surprise was, but he remained silent beside you.

“That’s right,” he said. “I want to nurture what is good in this world. I want to build places where it can last and grow.”

He took a few steps, looking at all the work he had done, all the hours of toil and planning, and then he turned to you.

“That’s what I see right here, in you two.”

You cocked your head to the side and smiled. 

“I see something good here,” he continued. “And I wanted to build a special place for that to grow.” He looked around the room once more. “It’s yours,” he said. “If you want it.”

You were speechless, but Spencer’s voice broke through the small silence.

“The house?” he confirmed. Morgan nodded.

“You’re… You’re giving us this house?” you asked.

“If you want it,” he nodded.

“It’s too much,” Spencer refused. You nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing.

Morgan shook his head.

“There’s no mortgage, I own it. It was a dump when I bought it, cheapest thing in the whole town, but now it’s not. It’s a good house. It’ll keep you warm in the winters and there’s a yard out back for the future little ones to play in. The deed’s in my name, but I have the paperwork to change that. All it would take is a signature.”

You were awestruck as you gaped at him. Spencer mumbled something incoherent as he tried to process this.

“You don’t want anything for it?” you asked. “You must have spent a fortune fixing it up.”

“Actually,  _ I _ did,” you heard a voice following the opening of the front door.

Rossi walked in casually, grinning almost as wide as Morgan.

“When you get to be my age, write the number of books I’ve written,” he shrugged. “You have money to spend. Why not use it on something worthwhile?”

Your heart felt full to bursting.

“Of course, you know Mama helped with the paint jobs,” Garcia said, sneaking in the open front door. 

“And despite ninety percent of my wardrobe, I do own clothes suitable for drywalling,” Hotch said, coming in behind her.

“I’m pretty handy with a hammer myself,” Prentiss added, as the parade kept coming.

“And Will and I know a few technicians to help fill in the gaps,” JJ said, leading Will in behind her, her hand on her growing stomach.

Your family stood before you, simply beaming at the two of you.

“All of you… Did this for us?” Spencer asked, his voice tight with emotion.

“Of course, Kiddo,” Rossi grinned. “Did you think we were going to let you live in that apartment forever?”

Spencer laughed, and you joined him, feeling the breath you’d been holding release in a joyous outburst.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted. “Thank you… So much.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized you were crying. 

“Oh, stop, if you cry I’m going to cry,” Garcia said, fanning her eyes. “And this mascara is expensive.”

You laughed as a cry of happiness made you nearly hiccup. Garcia rushed to you and hugged you, and soon the entire gang had come over, wrapping you and Spencer in a giant group hug. You laughed and cried for a while, hugging each individually until you all were a giant emotional mess. Spencer’s cheeks were wet too, and you shared a silent glance with him full of the love you felt in that moment for all of your friends, and all the hope you had for the future.

“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour,” Morgan said, offering his arm to you. You slid your arm into his, and followed him around the first floor.

The layout was very open and inviting, with lots of natural light to fill the rooms. The living room led to the kitchen, whose large space suggested it could easily house a kitchen table along with a fair amount of appliances. The kitchen led to a study, and then looped back around to the foyer, as you passed a bathroom in the connecting hallway. You then journeyed upstairs to find a master bedroom, a full bathroom attached, a guest room, another bathroom, and a room that was suggested nonchalantly by Morgan to be, “a nursery for his godchild, or whatever you think you’d use it for.” 

Completing the tour with the finished basement, you stood in the spacious back yard of the house in the shade of the trees, stunned.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Morgan smiled. “But just think,” he said, looking up at the house. “Think of all the  _ good _ that will come from this house. All the dinners and the parties, all the laughter and the love. Just being here with you two for an hour has made me happier than anything else all week. This is the start of something amazing, and we want to make sure you have the perfect environment to nurture this.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in the smell of the freshly cut grass. You listened to the quiet sounds of the neighborhood - a neighbor mowing their lawn, a kid laughing a ways away, a dog barking playfully. You thought of what Morgan had suggested. You thought of the warmth and the family that would grow here. You thought of the children and the pets, and the life that would grow and grow with every passing year. As the ivy grew thicker, so would your happiness. Opening your eyes, you looked up at Spencer. He was watching you, waiting for you to say something.

“I love you,” you said simply. “And I can’t wait to start our life together. Here.” You turned to the rest of your family. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“You could thank us with a beer,” Hotch suggested. “Tonight?”

“First round’s on you,” Rossi pointed at the two of you. 

“Gladly,” you laughed.

The team began to head back into the house, but you lingered with Morgan and Spencer. 

“I’ll give you guys a moment,” he said. “Meet us in the front when you’re ready.”

You nodded and waved as he disappeared into the house. When you were alone, you looked at Spencer.

“So, what do you think?” you asked quietly, biting your lip.

He kissed you then, without warning, and you giggled into the kiss.

“I think I’m so ready to start my life with you, I wish we could move in right now,” he said seriously.

You chuckled.

“Might be a little rough sleeping on the floors,” you noted.

He shrugged.

“You could lay on top of me, I wouldn’t mind the floor if it meant being with you. Here.”

You looked at this man, your fiance. Your sweet, kind, genius man. And kissed him.

When your cheeks were flushed and your heart was racing, you pulled away.

“We better go meet them,” you whispered. 

His eyes were still closed from the kiss, and he fluttered them open to look at you dreamily.

“Mm, I suppose we should,” he agreed. 

Taking your hand in his, you walked to meet your friends in the front. 

After separating for the day to take care of your separate chores, you joined the team at a bar that night and indeed bought them a round of drinks. It seemed the absolute least you could do after what they’d done for you that day, but even though you kept thanking them, and insisting it was too big a gift, they still insisted that they wanted this for you, and by the end of the night, you truly accepted it.

Over the next few months, you slowly started moving your stuff into the house. You bought furniture and appliances, and anything else you thought you might need to fill your new home. When your lease was up at your apartment, you ended it, and moved the last of your things into your new address on Castlewood Drive.

On your first official night at the house, the first time you would sleep there, you laid with Spencer in your new bed, under the warm covers, snuggled up face to face. 

“We’re here,” you whispered. 

“I know,” he grinned.

“I can’t wait to make memories,” you smiled. 

“We’re already making them,” he laughed. 

“Maybe it’s here,” you said, as an idea dawned on you.

“What’s here?” he asked.

“Maybe it’s here that we should get married.” He looked at you with a warm smile. “I mean, here is where we’re starting our life together as a married couple, why not literally start it here?”

He kissed your forehead and smiled.

“I think that’s a beautiful idea,” he said.

He held you close as you looked at each other in the moonlight. Not so long ago you had been strangers to each other, and yet now he was the person closest to you in every sense. You slept soundly in your new house together as dreams of your wedding floated through your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowly but surely writing a few chapters. probably going to wrap it up soon, but I'll let ya know when the final chapter's coming.


	40. Chapter 40

The commute to the university from your new house was actually a lot faster, and Spencer often came home for lunches on days when you were too busy to attend his classes. You wondered if his students could tell any difference on the days you had had more than just lunch at home with your fiance. 

However, it was on one of the days that you attended his class, that you got a very important text from Garcia. 

_ BABY JAREAU/LAMONTAGE IS A GO. I REPEAT, THE EAGLE IS LANDING. _

Gasping audibly, you drew the attention of the class. Spencer arched an eyebrow as you tried to pull together the words you needed. 

“JJ’s having the baby,” you smiled. “Right now.”

Spencer grinned, glanced at the class, up at the nearly finished presentation he was giving, and began packing up his things.

“Class dismissed,” he said gleefully. “Um, read chapter… Never mind, no homework, just enjoy yourselves.”

A stunned but pleased, the class began to pack up their things while Spencer grabbed your hand and ran alongside you to the car. Racing to the hospital, you parked and sprinted inside. Finding Garcia and Morgan already there, they led you up to the maternity ward. 

“Did she have it already?” you asked, breathing heavily from your run and fast paced walking now.

“She was in labor when we brought her here,” Garcia said. “But it didn’t take long. She’s with Will in the recovery room.”

“No complications?” Spencer asked. 

“None, kid,” Morgan assured him.

You glanced happily at Spencer and followed Morgan and Garcia to a door at the end of a brightly colored hall.

Peeping inside, you saw JJ, sweaty but glowing, staring down at a small little thing in her arms. Will stood next to her, looking tired but overwhelmingly joyous. They both turned their attention to the door when they saw you peeking in, and JJ smiled broadly.

“Come on in,” she whispered. 

You filed in silently, all attention on the small bundle of blankets. The small head had a thin covering of light hair. Tiny fingers squirmed in the air as if reaching for invisible bars.

“Meet Henry Spencer LaMontagne,” JJ said softly, looking at her baby.

Spencer swallowed hard and you grabbed his hand. 

“Spencer?” he confirmed.

“ _ Henry _ Spencer,” Morgan rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky.”

JJ shared a meaningful glance with Spencer and nodded. There seemed to be a whole conversation in that gaze, one that was full of a time long before you had met them.

Spencer edged closer to the bed, inspecting Henry as if he’d never seen a baby before. He reached a hand out tentatively to touch the child’s grasping hands. The small fingers wrapped around his, clutching Spencer’s index finger with all of his fingers. Spencer laughed softly.

“Do you want to hold him?” JJ asked. 

Spencer licked his lips and glanced at you. 

“I… Um I don’t know, maybe…”

“Just watch his head,” JJ said, not waiting for him to finish rambling, and handing over the baby to Spencer. 

“Oh… Okay,” Spencer said as the child was placed into his arms. He stared at him for a moment before adding, “Wow.”

JJ laughed as she watched Spencer. You were watching too. You saw the way he marveled at the small fingers, the curious eyes. 

“Hello, Henry,” he whispered.

“If anything should happen to us, it's up to you and (Y/N) to make sure this boy gets into Yale,” JJ nodded. 

“Yale? Do you want to go to Yale, Henry? That was your godfather's safety school. Don't worry, I can get you into Cal-Tech with one phone call,” Spencer promised.

You giggled, knowing it was true. 

“Would you like a turn?” Spencer asked, looking at you. 

You nodded and reached for the baby. Gently taking him in your arms, you sighed, feeling the warmth and smelling that new baby smell. He was small, but had a healthy weight to him. You looking down into those warm eyes and saw a lot of Will in that face. He grabbed for your chin, sliding his soft fingers across your face gently. You laughed and rocked him back and forth. He gurgled and seemed very content. 

“He’s perfect,” you told them, tearing your eyes away from the infant to look at his grinning parents.

“Alright, come to Papa,” Morgan said, motioning for you to hand over the child. 

Regretfully, you did so, letting him smile down at the new life. You slipped your hand into Spencer’s and gave it a squeeze. You didn’t need to look at him to know what he was thinking. It was time you started trying for one of your own. 

As the rest of the team eventually made their way into the hospital, the room filled with more and more love. You knew that baby would never be alone in this world, no matter what happened. You knew there would always be someone to love him, and you thanked your stars that your future child would have the same.

Weeks passed, and JJ and Will spent a lot of time at your new house, helping you move in new furniture and subjecting Henry to Spencer’s apparently limitless knowledge of facts about his growth and development every week. You were finally settling into your house and making it feel more like a home. 

One night, you and Spencer were sitting on the couch reading, when the doorbell rang.

“Who’s that?” Spencer asked, glancing at you.

“Who knows?” you smiled impishly. You jaunted over to the door as Spencer glared at you suspiciously. 

Opening the door to Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi, you watched as the men strode in and headed right for Spencer.

“What’s this?” Spencer asked, looking a little scared, and getting up from the couch.

“Surprise stag party,” Morgan grinned. “Go get changed into something nice.”

“What if I don’t want a stag party?” Spencer asked defiantly.

“Too bad,” Rossi smiled. 

Spencer didn’t seem to be able to find an argument at that. He looked to you for help but you just shrugged and moved out of his way so he could head upstairs to change.

“Where are you guys going?” you asked them, once Spencer was upstairs and out of earshot.

“We’ll let him tell you all about it,” Hotch said, enjoying the secrecy.

“Well, just keep him safe,” you smiled. They nodded. 

“Always,” Hotch promised.

You wondered what the boys had in mind. Surely they wouldn’t subject him to a strip club or a bar? They didn’t seem dressed to go to such a place, they all looked like they were going to a nice restaurant or something. Perhaps that was the plan.

Spencer came down in an outfit he usually wore to teach in, but with actual dress shoes instead of Converse.

“Ready to go?” Morgan asked. 

“I guess,” Spencer answered. As nervous as he looked, you knew the guys would make sure he had a fun night. And he deserved this - a night with the boys. 

With a quick kiss, he bid you goodnight and let the boys lead him into the waiting car. They were off, and you were left in the house by yourself. You enjoyed your time, taking a bubble bath and reading some guilty pleasure magazines. 

You were relaxing on the couch when you got a text from Morgan. It was a video. The camera was low, half obscured by what looked to be a table. It was clear no one was aware of the camera, as they were all talking to each other and not down at the seemingly hidden phone.

“No, really,” Hotch was saying, an uncharacteristically playful smile on his features. You could see the edges of a few beer bottles in frame, but none in front of Spencer.

“Really,” Spencer said, blushing.

“You would have waited forever?” Rossi asked.

You couldn’t tell where they were, but they were eating somewhere dark.

“Forever and a day,” Spencer seemed to be confirming something previously stated.

“Why’s that, kid?” You heard Morgan ask, his voice louder than the rest being closest to the camera.

“Because I already had more than I ever expected,” Spencer said simply. 

Still lost as to what they were talking about, and why Morgan would deem this secret stag night video worthy of your attention, you watched more.

The group was waiting expectantly for Spencer to continue. He pursed his lips together and shrugged, looking mostly at the table with only fleeting glances at his friends.

“When we first met, I thought for sure, if anything, she’d go for Morgan, as they always do.”

Spencer looked just up over the camera to look at Morgan. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I’m handsome,” Morgan laughed.

“No,” Spencer agreed. “But statistically, women tend to be drawn to you over me.”

“I suppose, statistically, that might be true,” Morgan teased.

“But it wasn’t like that, and I couldn’t figure out why,” Spencer said, the corners of his mouth curling up. “She  _ saw _ me… Understood me,” he said, nodding. “And after a while, after the questions in my head of ‘Why does she care about  _ me? _ ’ ‘Why does she want to spend time with  _ me?’ _ stopped… I knew I would always love her. I knew very early that she was enough. And I didn’t need anything else. I didn’t need her body, although, despite my previously mild interest in physical intimacy, I had begun to want it… I would have been perfectly content to hold her hand for the rest of my life.”

He finished this with a small smile, and you felt your heart leaping in your chest. While part of you had always known this, hearing it from him made you dizzy. While you knew that your physical connection was strong, you knew the connection you felt emotionally was stronger, able to withstand anything.

The camera started to shake and then the video ended, but you understood why Morgan had wanted you to see this. While you had no doubt Spencer would have told you all of this in person, he was telling his friends. He was confiding in them about his sexuality, about his connection with you. He was trusting, opening up, something he hadn’t been able to do after Tobias. Morgan was showing you that Spencer was healing. He was showing you what you had helped Spencer achieve. This intimate admittance, this look into his private life, never would have happened a year ago. Spencer would never have let anyone in. You had thought you were the only one he opened up to, and perhaps you were the only one he opened up to completely, but now he was letting others in, and you couldn’t be happier. He wasn’t intoxicated in any way, and here he was, letting himself be vulnerable for what you saw as the first time since Tobias. 

It was fairly late when you heard the car pull into the driveway. You were in your pajamas and in bed reading, but you got up and went downstairs to greet them. Spencer emerged from the car and waved to it as it backed down the driveway and drove away. 

Opening the door to meet him, you saw his huge smile, and knew it had been a great night. 

“Welcome back, wild man,” you teased. “How was the stag?”

In your head, you thought of the video Morgan had sent you, but you knew you wouldn’t say anything. Morgan had simply wanted you to know his friend was finally okay, nothing more, nothing less.

“Wonderful,” Spencer said, kissing you on the cheek as he stepped inside. 

“Wonderful?” you repeated. “Must have been a unique party then.”

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “I was nervous, because, of course, most stag parties take place in… less than desirable places for someone like me… But this was… I am very thankful for my friends,” he said. 

Taking your hand, he walked with you upstairs and into the bedroom, beginning to undress. You couldn’t stop smiling, truly thankful for his friends as well.

“They took me to the Smithsonian. We got a special tour of the exhibits and a behind the scenes look at some really fascinating stuff. Then we had dinner in one of the exhibits.” He was nearly glowing with happiness as he told you all about the things he saw and the people he met. “It was… a great time,” he laughed.

“Sounds like it!” you agreed, thrilled.

“Rossi knew some guy who knew some guy,” he explained. “I’m just glad they didn’t take me to a strip club or something,” he said, sliding into bed.

“You wouldn’t have had  _ any _ fun there?” you teased. “I’m sure it would have at least been interesting to observe.”

Spencer frowned and shook his head. 

“The tradition behind the journey to such a place before the wedding is to give the groom a ‘last look’ at the women he’ll never be able to look at again after he’s married. But… I never wanted to look at women I didn’t know, women I didn’t love, and now that I have one that I  _ do _ know and love… I find no need to look elsewhere, upcoming wedding or no.”

You ran your hand through his hair, stroking back the untamed curls. 

“That’s sweet,” you smiled.

“It’s just true,” he shrugged. 

And you knew, for him, it was. Any other guy might have  _ said _ such a thing, but you knew Spencer truly meant it.

“What about you?” he asked. “Are the girls going to throw you a bachelorette party?”

You sighed and smiled. 

“I suppose it’s inevitable,” you said. 

“Well, I’m sure they won’t take you to a strip club at least,” he laughed. His smile faded when he saw your smirk. “Would they?” he gulped. 

You laughed and kissed him, moving to straddle him and tangling your fingers through his hair.

“I doubt it… I think,” you said. “Garcia seems like the type to go all out for something like this, so I wouldn’t say it wasn’t an option.”

He looked worriedly up at you and you kissed his forehead. 

“What, you worried I’m going to run away with the first stripper who smiles at my money?” you teased. He swallowed and looked up searchingly at your face.

“The thought had crossed my mind for a moment,” he admitted. “As irrational as it was.”

“Well at least you know it’s irrational,” you said. 

He pursed his lips. 

“I know you would never do that,” he admitted. “But a lot of the time I still feel like I’m  _ too _ lucky, like something’s gotta give.”

You settled down on his lap and kissed his cheek.

“You’ve been through enough bad stuff,” you said. “You’re now allowed a lifetime of good stuff.”

“A whole lifetime, huh?” he asked dreamily.

“Mhm,” you nodded, kissing him gently.

“Not sure that’s enough time,” he smiled slightly.

“Well, perhaps we’ll be immortalized in the stars like Altair and Vega,” you offered. He frowned. “On the same side of the milky way,” you amended, at which he grinned.

“Forever in the stars,” he said wistfully. “That sounds alright.”

“Poetic, even,” you smirked.

When you kissed him, you thought about what he had said. You thought about a life with him just holding hands, sharing each other emotionally only. Still, when you hands ran along his bare chest, when he filled you up and became the only thing you thought about, the only thing you felt, you were glad you had explored this path together. While his mind would always be enough for you, the touch of him, the smell of him, made you feel like you were home.

You lay in bed awake after Spencer had fallen asleep. You watched his chest rise and fall, listened to his even breath. You had stopped taking your birth control after you’d talked about it with Spencer following Henry’s birth. You both knew this was what you wanted, and now, as you laid with him in the glow of the moon, you hoped that one day soon, you’d be able to welcome a new life into the world, a new life created with the man you loved with all your heart.


	41. Chapter 41

When you finally set a date for a wedding among the fall foliage in your new house, you and Spencer were near jittery with excitement. There wasn’t much to plan seeing as you were the owners of the establishment you were getting married in. All you needed to do was find a dress, get some food, and figure out who was going to perform the ceremony.

Since Garcia had long ago dubbed herself the maid of honor, you already knew your bridal party standings. Along with your blonde maid of honor, you’d have Prentiss and JJ beside you, despite Morgan’s complaints and express desire to be on “your side.”

Spencer, of course, welcomed Hotch and Rossi into his groomsmen side, and convinced Morgan that he would be just as happy as the best man. Grinning, and punching him lightly in the arm, Morgan hugged Spencer and gladly agreed. 

You puzzled over the missing piece, however. You didn’t want to hire just anyone to do the ceremony. Anyone could get ordained, but you wanted it to mean something to you, and the most important people in your life were already in your bridal parties. 

On a stormy night, you and Spencer lay in bed, watching the lightning flash across the dark room. Thunder boomed gently outside as rain hit the windows. You snuggled closer to him under the covers. 

“You still looking for someone to marry us?” he asked you. 

You huffed and sighed. 

“Yes,” you admitted. 

He chuckled slightly at your frustration. 

“I  _ may _ have someone,” he said. 

You sat up, surprised, and faced him. Both of your parents were coming, but you doubted it was any of them. And beyond that, neither of you had many other close friends or relatives.

“Who?” you asked.

Spencer’s gaze faltered to the bedspread and he looked almost nervous.

“Someone I haven’t seen for a long time,” he said. When you waited for him to continue, he finally met your gaze. “Before Rossi came back, there was someone else on the team,” he explained. “His name was Jason Gideon.”

A flash of lightning lit up your fiance’s face. He looked sad for some reason.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” you asked. It felt like the name of someone from a ghost story.

“You’ve probably heard the team mention him from time to time,” Spencer shrugged. “He was with us for a long time. He was… my mentor in a lot of ways.”

“Did he retire?” you guessed. 

Spencer sighed. 

“Yes… He was sort of forced into it.”

You took his hand, seeing that this was hard for him to talk about. 

“Someone he loved was killed because of our job,” he said. “And it… broke him, I think. He left… He left a note for me, but it didn’t help. It just… I never knew why he didn’t just tell me in person. I never got to say goodbye.”

“Did you know where he went?” you asked.

He nodded. 

“He has a cabin the woods,” he explained. “But after I read that letter, I knew I couldn’t just drop by. He needed some time to heal… And then some time became a long time, and…”

“I know,” you assured him, when he couldn’t quite finish the sentence. 

“I always thought he would be there for the important moments in my life,” Spencer said. 

“Did you send him an invitation?” you asked. 

“I sent him a letter,” Spencer said. “A long one.”

“What was in it?” you asked. He smiled. 

“A story.”

“What story?” you asked. 

His eyes lightened and he looked at you carefully. 

“Our story,” he said softly.

Your lips twitched into a small smile. 

“Did he write back?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“Yesterday,” he said. He reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a few sheets of paper. You could tell they had been read and reread quite a few times despite his memory.

“And?” you asked. 

“I didn’t think he’d come,” Spencer admitted. “But… he said he wants to.”

“That’s great!” you smiled. 

He smiled sadly.

“Not great?” you asked. 

“No, it is,” he nodded. “His letter is more promising than the last he wrote. I just can’t unsee that first letter. He was so depressed, so lost. For a long time I didn’t know if he… If he was still alive.”

You squeezed his hand.

“But I’ve been in his shoes by now,” Spencer said. “I know what that feels like… And I got out. Just like he did.”

“It sounds like you got out sooner,” you added. He nodded. 

“And I have him to thank for that.” You waited, feeling there was more he wanted to say. “I saw what losing the woman he loved did to him. When you asked me to leave, of course it was because I wanted to be  with you… But it was also a little because I didn’t want what happened to Gideon to happen to me. I didn’t want you to get hurt, and I didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“But now here we are, all of us. No one’s hurt, and no one’s gone.”

He nodded. 

“And this time, it’ll be a celebration bringing us together.”

“That’s what he wrote,” Spencer said. “He said that he is so profoundly happy for me, that he wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He was smiling by the end of this sentence and so were you. 

“I can’t wait to meet him,” you said. 

“He’s going to love you,” Spencer promised. 

The rest of the evening, Spencer regaled you with stories of Gideon. He told of the times on the plane when he had beat Spencer at chess, the profiles they’d uncovered together, and even rare moments outside of work that were heartfelt and meaningful. You wondered why Spencer had never mentioned this man before, this man who he obviously idolized and loved. But you could understand not wanting to think about someone who was gone from your life for such a long time with only little hope of them coming back. You listened as the storm waned outside, and you fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

The following weekend, the girls had decided upon as your bachelorette party. Spencer’s had been early due to the plans that Rossi had to make for the museum, but the girls wanted to wait until the wedding was a little closer. Now that it was drawing quite near, they wanted to know what you wanted to do. 

To Spencer’s relief, you banned any thought of a strip club, and instead insisted on girl’s night in, as had been your tradition with them since the beginning. Despite Garcia’s obvious chagrin, she readily agreed to host, and promised to make it even more wonderful than your engagement party. With the promise to return you the next day, Garcia tore you away from Spencer and drove you over to her place. 

JJ and Prentiss were already waiting at her place when you got there, and you arrived to just about everything you could imagine in the shape of a penis. The string lights, the candles, the cakes, the cupcakes, the champagne glasses. Everywhere, everything. You giggled and shook your head at their efforts, settling into the couch as a plastic dick full of champagne was handed to you.

“We had to honor some kind of tradition,” Garcia smirked.

“I’d say you honored it,” you laughed. “Maybe even a little too much.”

“Too much?” JJ jested, picking up the penis sunglasses and putting them on. “No, certainly not.”

Prentiss laughed and went to get a knife.

“So are we cutting into this cake or what?” she asked.

“Yes please,” you laughed.

Pieces were served, and, despite its less than appealing shape, it tasted delicious. You had a good amount of bubbly in you, and were feeling extremely happy. The girls talked and you enjoyed listening to them.

“So how’s that redhead from the coffee shop?” you asked Prentiss. 

She blushed and looked down at her penis cup.

“Um, she’s good, actually,” she smiled. “We’re actually really good.”

She informed you that after the last time you’d talked about her, she’d gotten up the nerve to ask her out, and they’d had a great time. While it was hard being away so often, the girl, Amy, didn’t seem to mind. They were taking it slowly, but so far it was going well.

“Are you thinking of bringing her as your plus one?” you asked. “It’s fine by me, I’d love to meet her.”

“Oh, no,” Prentiss shook her head. “It’s not that serious yet.”

“Besides, this wedding is family only, right?” Garcia asked. 

“It’s basically you guys, the rest of the team, our parents, Joy, and Gideon,” you confirmed.

Their faces went slack. 

“Gideon?” JJ confirmed. 

You nodded.

“He’s officiating.”

“Wow,” JJ said, sitting back in her chair and taking a sip of her drink.

“Yeah, wow,” Garcia echoed. 

“When’s the last time you guys saw him?” you asked.

“Years ago, before he left,” Garcia answered. “He’s not the best with the communication thing, or technology thing.”

“How’s Spencer feeling about seeing him again?” JJ asked. 

“Excited, nervous, a little sad,” you reported. “I get the feeling he was like a father figure, huh?”

They all nodded. 

“Kind of to all of us,” JJ added. 

“Speaking of fathers, is yours going to be giving you away?” Garcia asked.

You stopped for a moment, realizing you hadn’t thought about it.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “My parents and I aren’t exactly close. I like the idea of someone giving me away though, like helping me into this new stage of my life. But I wouldn’t say my father is the best choice for that.” You thought for a moment. “I guess I would want someone who encouraged me, believed in me… Spent time with me,” you rambled. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well, think fast,” Garcia smiled. “You’ll be hitched before you know it!”

You chuckled, glancing at your engagement ring and smiling.

“Seems crazy, doesn’t it?” you asked. “Not so long ago we were only neighbors.”

“And now you’re part of the family,” Garcia said, patting you lovingly on the top of your head as she got up to refill her drink. You blushed.

“And I thank you guys for that,” you said. “Letting me into your family.”

“Thank you for taking care of Spence,” JJ said seriously. “After Tobias… It was touch and go for a while. I’m not sure he would have made it without you. And the two of you… It’s meant to be.”

You smiled and looked down at your drink.

“Thanks,” you muttered. 

After a few more drinks, you called Spencer to wish him a goodnight, taking far too long to tell him over and over again how much you loved him, listening to him laugh as you did so. You could listen to that laugh all night. However, you said your final goodnight, and spent the rest of the time playing games and just generally enjoying your night with the girls.

In the morning, you all woke up late and ate a nice greasy breakfast together. Eventually, you all felt like going home. Prentiss and JJ left first, and Garcia promised to take you home. 

On the way home, you gently broached the issue you’d been waiting to talk about with Garcia alone.

“So… How’s Morgan?” you asked. 

She instantly flushed and pushed up her glasses even though they were already all the way up on her nose.

“Oh, um, he’s… He’s good,” she smiled. “We’re still… Yup. That’s a thing that is definitely happening.”

“Wow,” you said. “The stuttering, the lack of full sentences edged with wit… Is this serious?”

“I don’t know, I think so?” she said. “Yes. At least for me… And he says it is for him too.”

“And no one knows yet?” you asked. She shook her head.

“Not sure how much longer we can hide it if we want to really move forward,” she said. 

“Wow, it is serious,” you marveled, happy for your friends.

“It’s more than I ever thought it would be,” she admitted. “I’m glad I have you to talk about it with.”

“Anytime,” you promised. “I hope you find happiness together, and I will help that in any way I can.”

“I… Um, sort of love you, you know that right?” she grinned. 

“I love you too, Garcia,” you smiled. 

You pulled into your driveway, and got out, thanking Garcia for the amazing party. Spencer appeared in the doorway in his bathrobe, and Garcia waved and honked as she made her way back down the driveway.

You skipped towards Spencer and he grinned, opening his arms to wrap you up in them when you came to him. He kissed the top of your head.

“Good night?” he asked. 

“Great night,” you smiled, kissing him.

You heard another car pulling into the driveway behind you, and turned around.

“Who’s that?” you asked. 

“Oh, Hotch just wanted to come by and pick up the slip for his tux, we got our mixed up when we ordered them.”

You saw the passenger’s side open first, as Haley stepped out. She waved before helping Jack out of the back. Hotch exited and walked with his family towards you. 

“You survived the bachelorette party, I see,” Hotch smirked as he greeted you. 

“Barely,” you jested. 

“Good to see you again,” Haley smiled, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Someone has been missing you,” she smiled, looking down at her son.

Jack smiled sheepishly at the ground. You squatted down to his level and he met your gaze.

“How’s it going?” you asked. 

“Good,” he smiled. 

“Are you excited to come to our wedding?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“There’s gonna be cake,” you grinned. 

“I love cake,” he said.

“Me too,” you laughed. 

“The ticket’s inside,” Spencer said, welcoming them in.

You all moved into the living room while Spencer went upstairs to look for the slip. Jack started dancing in place, and Haley led him to the bathroom when she noticed. 

Alone with Hotch, you looked at him carefully for a moment. You spoke softly, almost embarrassed by the question you wanted to ask.

“Hey… So I know you’re one of Spencer’s groomsmen,” you started. “But, to me… Well, I would ask my father to walk me down the aisle, to give me away… But I thought it should be someone who’s encouraged me, who had faith in me when I faltered… Someone I respect,” you said. “I was wondering if you would…”

“Yes,” Hotch answered quickly and surely. “It would be a privilege.”

You sighed with relief. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. 

“I’m honored that you’d ask,” he smiled back.

“Honored that you’d ask what?” Spencer asked, rounding the corner.

“To give me away at our wedding,” you answered. 

“Seems like a great idea,” he smiled. 

Haley and Jack walked back into the room and you filled them in on what they’d missed. Spencer handed Hotch his slip to pick up his tux, and you chatted for a while. They left soon after that with an uncharacteristically long hug from Hotch. You knew what that meant for him. While he wouldn’t express his feelings much verbally, a hug like that told you all you needed to know. He was truly touched.

It seemed that everything was falling into place. Now the only thing left to do was to actually get married.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry it's been like ten years. don't worry, this isn't the last chapter, it just might take me a while to get to the next few. thanks for sticking with me! <3

You supposed many brides, the week before their wedding, would be a mess. However, two days away from the big day, you were completely at peace. Everything was set. Gideon would be arriving today, your and Spencer’s parents the following day, and then the wedding would take place the day after that. It seemed simple to you. Perhaps it was the small amount of people, or the fact that you were having the wedding in your home. Or, maybe it was the fact that you were one hundred percent confident in your choice of husband. Either way, you were grateful for the lack of stress.

You had arranged for Gideon to stay with you in your guest room. Your parents and Spencer’s had both opted for a hotel not too far away, so it left the room open for a guest you were quite anxious to meet. Gideon, Spencer had shown you from what few photos he had, was a handsome, older man with heavy brown eyes and a sure posture. 

When he arrived on your doorstep, and you opened the door to him, he smiled, tilting his head to the side as his eyes found yours. They were warm, gentle, only slightly tinged with the horrors he’d seen in his time on the job.

“Hi, Gideon,” you said, extending your hand. “I’m--”

“Oh I know who you are,” he laughed. “I’ve heard all about you.”

“Right, Spencer’s letter,” you smiled.

“Spencer’s  _ novel _ ,” he smirked.

“Well, come in, Spencer’s just--”

“Right here,” Spencer said, nearly bounding to the door.

Gideon stepped inside, his eyes grazing over your foyer with gentle approval.

“Let me take your coat,” you offered.

“Oh, thank you, my dear,” Gideon said, sliding out of his worn green jacket. You hung it up on the coat rack and closed the door behind him.

“How was the drive?” Spencer asked. Something about him was almost giddy. A nervous sort of excitement a child might have around his favorite teacher.

“Not bad,” Gideon nodded. “More traffic than I’m used to.”

Spencer grinned and led the way into the living room. 

“Well, this is it,” he said, gesturing around. He began prattling about the square footage of the house, the architecture influences, the types of wood, and other varied facts as you gave Gideon a quick tour of the house. He was quiet, and respectful, looking at you throughout the tour as if trying to read your personality from the way you walked or the way you laughed at Spencer’s excessive facts.

By the end of the tour, Spencer had exhausted his knowledge on the house, and the three of you stood in the guest room. 

“Want help with your bags?” you asked. 

“Oh, no I’ll get them,” he said. “So,” he clapped his hands together. “What’s the plan then?”

“We were thinking dinner just the three of us, and then the team coming over later for drinks?” Spencer asked.

“Marvelous,” Gideon smiled.

He brought in his bags and brought them up to his room while you and Spencer started dinner. He was up there for a few minutes, organizing, while you were cooking. You were making pasta with vodka sauce and a side of mixed vegetables. Spencer had just dabbed your cheek with a small dot of sauce and licked it off, causing you to laugh. He kissed you, giggling along with you, when you heard Gideon’s steps.

You stopped kissing, but not smiling, and turned to him. His expression surprised you. He looked sincerely pleased. While perhaps your little display of affection might have warranted a shy look from others, he looked as though he were gazing upon an old family photo.

“Hey,” you greeted. “It’s just about done.”

He nodded, the happy smile still on his features. You separated from Spencer to pour Gideon a glass of wine. He sniffed, swirled, and smiled, taking a sip.

Dinner conversations flowed easily, ranging from art to literature to nature. You found Gideon to be extremely intelligent, but not pedantic. Like Spencer, he found joy in knowledge, rather than power. He spoke with the easy grace of someone who had explored his life thoroughly and taken wisdom from it. After dinner, while you were waiting for the team to arrive, you sat with Spencer on the couch as Gideon helped start a fire in the fireplace. The embers flared a bright red and caught on the kindling. Once the wood had started to burn, Gideon sat down in the armchair beside it, content.

“So, Spencer said in his letter that you used to be neighbors,” Gideon reflected.

“We were,” you smiled.

“A serendipitous rental agreement,” Gideon mused. 

“I had only signed a six month lease,” you remembered. “I didn’t know if I was going to stay, if I would find any friends here.”

“It seems you’ve made quite the home by now,” he smiled. 

You glanced at Spencer. Yes, you had this house, but he was your true home, he would always be that for you no matter where you were.

“Yes,” you said, still looking at Spencer. 

“Oh,” Spencer said, moving so suddenly, it surprised you. “I forgot the beer in the garage.”

“Morgan would never forgive you if we didn’t at least  _ attempt _ to cool it further than room temperature,” you teased.

“I know,” Spencer said almost seriously, rushing towards the door.

Giggling, you were left alone with Gideon for a moment. You found him gazing at you, his skin soft in the flickering firelight.

“You two seem very happy,” he noted. 

You glanced at your engagement ring and then to the picture frame you’d transferred to this mantel. 

“We are,” you agreed.

“Good,” Gideon said. 

In that word seemed to be a whole essay on his feelings for Spencer, his hopes, his worries, his pride. 

“There’s light in this house,” he said. “That’s not true of all profilers, current or retired.”

The lines in the corners of his eyes, the slight sagging of the skin around his cheekbones, suddenly stood out to you. Was there light in his home? Was it too late to bring some there?

You were about to speak, to ask him, to tell him how much you wanted there to be light in his life too, when you heard a knock at the door, followed by it opening.

“Knock knock,” Morgan smiled, pushing the door in. Garcia was attached to him, her hand in his, as he led them inside. Gideon stood, the sadness fading slightly from his eyes as he beheld them.

“Long time,” he said, opening his arms to Morgan. 

The two men embraced, holding each other for a moment longer than a casual greeting. 

“Sir,” Garcia said, her voice taut with emotion. 

“Penelope,” Gideon smiled. 

You thought for a moment Garcia might be crying, and she did wipe a tear away from her eye, but when she pulled back from the hug, she was smiling.

“How’s the woods?” She asked nervously. “Are there bears? Scary bears? Or is it like a Disney movie, and you’ve befriended them? Or--”

“Baby girl, calm down. You have all night for questions,” Morgan smiled. 

She glanced at him with slight embarrassment and pushed her glasses up higher on her nose.

There was another knock on the door as Hotch and Haley entered, followed closely by a nervous-looking Jack.

“Hotch,” Gideon said evenly. 

“Gideon,” Hotch responded.

It seemed almost tense for a moment before you realized it was because both men didn’t know how to react.

Then, Gideon’s eyes fell to Jack. 

“Is this Jack?” he asked, stooping to the child’s level. 

“It is,” Hotch smiled. Gideon held out his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. 

“Nice to meet you too,” Jack answered with a glance to his father to make sure that was the correct response. A slight nod from Hotch assured him it was. 

“And the beautiful Haley,” Gideon sighed, straightening back up. He leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“It’s nice to see you again,” she responded softly. You greeted the three of them as yet another knock came on the door.

JJ and Will arrived carrying Henry in a small carrier. Gideon’s eyes lit up when he saw them. 

He was catching up with Will and JJ, when Rossi and Joy arrived.

“Hello, old man,” Rossi said, holding out his hand to Gideon. 

Gideon’s smile was small, careful.

“Hello, yourself,” Gideon said, taking his hand. He pulled Rossi into a hug, and the room seemed to still for a moment. Pulling away, Gideon clasped Rossi’s shoulder with a firm hand, seemingly sharing something between them that was both invisible and inaudible.

“Uh, this is my daughter, Joy,” Rossi said, motioning to the woman behind him. 

“Spencer mentioned,” Gideon said. “A pleasure to meet you,” he added, kissing Joy’s extended hand.

“You ruined my reveal,” Gideon frowned at Spencer. He shrugged in return.

“Am I late?” you heard a voice from the door. Turning, you saw Prentiss enter.

“Just in time, my dear,” Gideon smiled. Hugging Prentiss, he welcomed in the final team member.

Your house was full of light and love that night, full of laughter and stories, gasps and exclamations. Henry slept through most of it, and Jack seemed enthralled by Gideon’s ring. There was some shop talk, cases and unsubs long before your time with the team, but mostly they talked about the present, their lives and their interests now. It felt like Gideon had always been there somehow. He fit in so easily with everyone despite the time apart.

JJ, Will, Hotch, and Haley left first, bringing their kids home with them for bedtime. You were sad to see them go, but they’d be back soon enough for the wedding. The rest of your guests stayed until very late, and by the time they had left, the fire had burned down to nearly nothing, all the wine bottles were empty, and everyone’s eyes were getting heavier. 

You bid goodnight to the rest of the team, and found you were more tired than you thought when it was at last just you, Spencer, and Gideon left in the living room.

You tucked yourself under Spencer’s chin, closing your eyes and snuggling into him, extremely tired. 

“Bedtime?” he asked. You nodded. 

“I’ll see you kids in the morning,” Gideon smiled. 

Spencer followed you upstairs, and Gideon said goodnight again before retiring to his room.

Your and Spencer’s parents arrived in town the next day. William had arranged with Diana’s care home to be her guardian and nurse for the time she would be away, so no nurse was needed to travel with her. You were nervous for his parents to meet yours, but they got along amiably enough during the lunch you invited them to, Gideon acting as a sort of buffer between everyone when things got tense or awkward.

During your lunch, you pulled your father to the side and explained that you had asked Hotch to walk you down the aisle. While he was disappointed, of course, he couldn’t argue your reasoning. Hotch had helped you through certain things in your time with Spencer that your father hadn’t been around for. Your parents loved you, of course, but they weren’t there for you the same way the team had been, especially lately. 

While sometimes you wished you were closer with your parents, you knew you already had a very close family, and that felt like more than enough.

After your and Spencer’s parents left, returning back to their hotels, the rest of the day passed quickly. Soon enough it was the night before your wedding. Everything was ready: the caterers had called to confirm you were still on for tomorrow, your dress and his tux were laid out and ready to go, the girls were ready to come over in the morning to help you get ready, Gideon was relaxing on the couch, reading.

You felt like there should be more hustle and bustle before such a big day, but everything was calm. You found yourself cleaning and re-cleaning things that were perfectly fine, anxious to do  _ something _ to rid yourself of your nervous energy. Why you were so nervous, you had no idea. You knew that tomorrow would be fine, that you weren’t nervous about making the commitment to Spencer. You were just so… excited. You wanted to be Mrs. Reid tonight, and could hardly fathom that you had to wait a whole day.

When you tried to fall asleep, you were wildly unsuccessful. You kept glancing at your dress as if you thought it might have run off. Spencer snored softly beside you, clearly at peace with everything. Staring up at the ceiling, you knew you had to get up and do something before your body would let you sleep.

Deciding to make some chamomile tea, you got up and tiptoed silently to the kitchen. The light above the stove was on, casting a yellow glow around a small area of the kitchen. Gideon stood, a mug in hand, gently swirling a tea bag. He looked up when he heard your feet on the tile. He looked surprised, and then smiled.

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked knowingly.

You sighed and nodded. He grabbed a second mug out of the cabinet and poured the remainder of the water from the still-warm kettle. Sliding a tea bag into the water, you felt the warmth of the mug against your hands.

“Not getting cold feet I hope?” Gideon teased, knowing full well this was not the case.

“Only from the tile,” you smirked at your bare toes.

“Excitement?” he guessed. You nodded. 

“You’d think my brain would want me to rest up, but instead it’s like ‘We have a big day tomorrow, better not sleep at all in case we miss it!’”

Gideon chuckled softly. 

“It is a big day,” he agreed. “One of the biggest. Marriage is one of the best things humans have created,” he said. “To tie your soul to one person… It is brave and wonderful,” he said, smiling.

“Thank you for officiating,” you said shyly. “I know it means the world to him, and it means a lot to me too. I know I don’t know you very well yet, but you mean a lot to him, and therefore you mean a lot to me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Gideon said. “I worried for a while after Tobias. And when I left… I’m just happy he found you, found himself again.”

You nodded, understanding and agreeing.

“You’ll make a good life together,” Gideon said, sounding older than perhaps he was. “You make each other stronger. You’re both selfless with each other.” You made to object, to say that he’d only seen you together for two days, but he held up a finger. “I can see it,” he said. “I see it in the way you watch him when conversations shift to potential triggers, I can see it in the way you squeeze his hand when he starts curling up inside the big brain of his. I see it when he smiles at your smile rather than what’s funny, how he leans toward you even when you’re not next to him. It’s good, this thing. It’s very good.”

You blushed, sipping your tea while you thought of something to say in response. Thank you? That seemed inadequate. Instead, you put down your tea, rose on your tippy toes, and gave Gideon a kiss on the cheek. He looked almost startled, but smiled. You finished your tea in comfortable silence before heading back upstairs together. 

You slipped into bed and Spencer wrapped himself around you, still asleep, but responding to your body anyway. You settled in and fell asleep soon after, dreaming peacefully through the night.

When you woke to your alarm, your eyes shot open, and you felt like springing out of bed. Instead, you rolled over and beamed at Spencer, whose eyes were as bright as yours, and whose smile was just as wide.

“Hi,” you smiled at him.

“Hi,” he grinned.

“Today’s the day,” you said, snuggling up to him.

“It is,” he agreed. 

“You ready?” you asked. 

He bit his lip and looked at you closely.

“I’ve been ready for a long time,” he said softly.

You kissed him and nearly jumped out of bed, the cool morning air greeting your exposed skin. Despite your slight insomnia, you were feeling energetic and excited. You had about an hour to eat until the girls came over to start helping you with hair and makeup, and you spent it eating quietly with Spencer and Gideon. 

When the girls arrived, you were rushed upstairs in a tornado of cheery, high-pitched voices, hair implements, products, and makeup bags. Spencer watched helplessly as you were led away without anything more than a glance to hold him over until he saw you at the ceremony. You saw Gideon lay a hand on his shoulder and give him a good-natured nod to go back into the living room. It seemed like he was trying not to laugh at how lost Spencer looked without you.

Once upstairs, the girls seemed to settle a bit. JJ went to work setting up a station on your dresser that would hold all the products and curlers and various other instruments. Prentiss found your desk chair and pulled it over, and Garcia gazed at your wedding dress.

“Alright, team,” Garcia said in her most authoritative voice. “We’ve got approximately two hours until we need to have this woman ready to walk down the aisle. We need hair. We need makeup. We need the dress. You’ve trained your entire life for this, ladies, and now is the time to shine.”

You chuckled at her slightly army-major type approach to this, but JJ and Prentiss merely followed orders. You sat down in the chair they had brought over as JJ began to assess your hair. Garcia had claimed makeup, and Prentiss’ role seemed to be to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed, or extremely bored as they poked and pulled at you.

You had warned Garcia that you wanted natural makeup with just a hint of something special, and JJ promised to do your curls just as you liked them.

About a half hour in, you heard Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch arrive. Having forgotten to take Spencer’s suit out of the bedroom, Morgan had to knock and slip inside to grab it, giving you a kiss on the cheek as he passed on the way out.

Not too long after that, you heard the rest of your guests arriving. Happy chatter filled the downstairs as you neared completion of your preparations.

They hadn’t let you look in the mirror until the job was complete, but when the girls had finished, they twirled you around to have a look in your mirror. It was everything you’d wanted. Your hair looked stunning, framing your face and falling gently around your shoulders. Your makeup was subtle, but with a little extra pop.

Smiling, your gaze shifted from your own face to the three girls huddled around you. They were all grinning at you, just as excited as you were. They helped you into your wedding gown, and you found yourself simply glowing with happiness.

A glance out the window showed you that everything was ready. Chairs had been set up, facing the back of the yard where strong, tall maple trees grew. The light from the morning was rich, bouncing off the yellow and orange leaves of the trees and giving the whole yard a golden hue. Some guests had found their seats, but most remained indoors, their voices small and clustered downstairs.

A knock on the door sounded, and Garcia raced to the door to open it a crack. 

“Password?” she asked.

“Babygirl,” Morgan said, half exasperated, half amused. 

“Correct,” she beamed, allowing him entrance. 

“Are you--”

Morgan stopped when his eyes fell on you. He blinked and cleared his throat. 

“Are you, um ready to go?” he asked, recovering. Garcia hit him lightly on the arm.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “You guys all set?”

“We’ve been ready to go for a while,” he laughed. “It’s taking all I got to hold Pretty Boy back from running up here with Gideon and just doing the ceremony now.”

“Well, we can definitely start,” you smiled. “Just let me know when it’s safe to come down.”

“We’ll send Hotch up,” Morgan smiled. He was going to leave, and then turned back to you. “You look beautiful,” he said, sincerely.

And you knew he wasn’t just talking about your dress, your hair, or your makeup. He was talking about you. You could feel it, this warmth, this radiance, flowing off of you in waves. It was happiness, you realized. True happiness and love.

You saw the rest of the guests file out and take their seats in the yard, Gideon bringing up the rear with a small journal in hand. He had changed into a suit, and looked rather dapper from what you could see from the second floor. Once everyone had settled, Gideon motioned for the groomsmen. Rossi and Morgan filed obediently down the line, followed by Spencer. Your heart lept and you wanted to race down and get to him right away. You held yourself back, however, and jumped when you heard the knock on the door. 

Hotch opened it tentatively, peeking in around the door with a shy smile. 

“Ready to go, ladies?” he asked. 

“Let’s do this!” Garcia smiled. She grabbed her small bouquets and handed them out to JJ and Prentiss. They filed out ahead of you, and Hotch stepped into the room to allow them to exit.

“Ready?” he asked, extending his arm to you. 

“Ready,” you smiled.

Linking your arm with Hotch made you so sure of everything. His strong, permanent presence seemed like something time could never touch. You followed the girls downstairs and waited just inside the door to the backyard. Spencer couldn’t see you yet. You waited until the girls were settled in their places, and then you stepped outside.

While some grooms faced away from their bride’s entrance, Spencer would not have been able to, even if he had tried. The look on his face when he saw you was so pure. In his expression, you saw everything you could ever need. Love, acceptance, adoration, encouragement. Everything was there. Hotch kept a steady pace and you tried not to trip as you walked across the yard. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your hands were shaking, and you could feel your cheeks already aching from smiling so much.

When at last you reached the end of the aisle, Hotch kissed your cheek, and let you stand next to your betrothed. He joined the ranks of the groomsmen and proudly watched you turn to face Spencer. 

You saw Spencer lightly bounce on the balls of his feet, as if he couldn’t contain the energy that was building up in him. You tore your attention away from him to glance at Gideon, who was beaming at you.

“Shall we begin?” he asked. You nodded. “William Blake wrote, ‘If a thing loves, it is infinite,’” Gideon said. “Infinite,” he repeated. “I’m sure Spencer could give you every definition in every dictionary ever printed,” he smiled, the crowd chuckled. “But for now, let’s just say, it means endless, limitless. When a person loves, they become more than themselves, more than each other. I believe these two have found something exceptional together, and we are here to witness their union. Can we have the rings, please?” Gideon asked of Garcia and Morgan. 

Each presented the rings to you and Spencer. Your hand shook, but Garcia clasped it in hers and assured you with a smile. You took the ring and looked at Spencer. His eyes were watery, but he was smiling, shaking as he held the ring in his hand.

“Spencer, would you like to say your vows?” Gideon asked.

Spencer let out a small laugh and nodded. He licked his lips, looking at the ground, before lifting his eyes to meet yours. He took a deep breath and started, his voice shaky but sure. He spoke to you and the crowd.

“I’ve been through a lot in my life,” he said. “After the worst of it… I kept a journal.”

You remembered that journal, that peek into the workings of his mind.

“At the end of my first entry, I remember writing that I felt so alone.”

He swallowed hard, and you took his hand instinctively. 

“I remember writing that I wasn’t sure there was any reason to live anymore.”

You felt the stillness of the crowd, the holding of breath from those around you.

“But after meeting you, I wrote, ‘The fact that she loves me, makes any horror I’ve ever lived through seem to melt away. She makes the dark parts of me bright. She makes me laugh, she makes me think, and most importantly, she makes me want to live,’ and that is even more true today.”

His hand was shaking, but his features were set, determined. 

“I vow to make you laugh, to hold you, to cherish you. I want to make your life as good as you’ve made mine.”

“And (Y/N)?” Gideon asked.

You felt electricity in your veins, stemming from your heart and flowing freely to your arms and to the tips of your fingers.

“You’ve transformed my life, Spencer Reid. I don’t want to spend another minute not being your wife. I’ve written a lot in my time, read a lot too… but this, us, our story, is my favorite. I vow to love you for the rest of our lives. Every single birthday. Forever.”

He grinned at you, and you felt your hands still. The shaking was gone. This was it. 

“Do you, Spencer Reid, take this woman to be your wife?” Gideon asked. 

“I do,” Spencer said, his voice cracking. He slid the ring carefully onto your finger.

“And do you, (Y/N), take this man to be your husband?”

“I do,” you said, feeling your whole body tingling at the words. You slid the ring onto his finger.

“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Gideon smiled. “You may kiss the--”

Spencer wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him fiercely. As his lips crashed onto yours, the small crowd cheered. 

“Bride,” Gideon chuckled softly as you pulled apart.

You kissed him one more time before you took a look at your friends and family. There were almost no dry eyes, least of all from Garcia. You swore you saw a reflection of something glinting in Hotch’s eyes too. You linked arms with Spencer and smiled at him. You began to walk down the aisle and into the house. After a moment, the bridal party followed, the rest of the crowd trailing in after them. 

Once inside, you hugged everyone in a hurricane of smiles and tears of happiness. The catering arrived right on cue and you had a great day of food and celebration. After you’d finish eating and were just hanging out, Haley, Hotch, and Jack came up to you and Spencer.

“We just wanted to say congratulations again,” Haley smiled warmly. 

“Thanks,” Spencer grinned, grabbing your hand.

Jack carefully inspected your rings.

“Does this mean you’re going to make babies now?” he asked inquisitively. 

Haley blushed and you laughed. You looked at Spencer who was smiling, staring at Jack with something like wonder in his eyes.

“Jack, that’s not something you ask people,” Hotch said gently. 

“Oh,” Jack said. 

“It’s okay,” you smiled. 

You glanced at Spencer again to see he was looking at you, a small smile playing on his lips. You wondered what his smile would look like on a mini version of him.

The rest of the reception went on until it was dark. Your parents, after congratulating you, left for their hotel. Spencer’s parents stayed a little longer, getting to know the team a bit, his mother warming up inexplicably to Rossi more than anyone else. 

After a while, they too left, and soon after that, the team followed.  

“Hey pretty lady,” Morgan said, donning his coat. “Congratulations. You’ve married the biggest dork on the planet.”

Spencer scoffed. 

“I know,” you smiled, kissing Spencer on the cheek.

“And you,” he pointed at Spencer. “Treat her like a queen.”

“Always,” Spencer nodded. 

Morgan ruffled his hair and opened the door. 

“My OTP, together for real,” Garcia gushed, hugging you both simultaneously. 

She blew a kiss as Morgan wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her outside to his car. 

“One wife is more than enough,” Rossi smirked. “I should know. Be happy together.”

The procession continued with Will and JJ. 

“Let us know when you’re back from your honeymoon,” she smiled. “We’ll have a double date.”

“You got it,” you said, hugging her.

“Beautiful ceremony,” Prentiss said. “I love you guys.”

She hugged you each and you felt your heart swell.

“You are simply stunning,” Haley smiled at you.

“Thank you for inviting me to your wedding,” Jack said, as though he were reading from a script.

Hotch patted him on the shoulder. He looked meaningfully at you.

“Thank you,” he said. “It was an honor to walk you down the aisle. And an honor to be here. I hope you find every happiness together.”

His honest and straight gaze made you tear up. He leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, and gave Spencer a tight hug. When the remainder of the guests had cleared, only Gideon remained. He had packed his things upstairs and brought them down.

“Why don’t you stay a few more days?” Spencer asked. Gideon smiled.

“Stay for your wedding night? Wouldn’t dream of it,” he shook his head. 

“We don’t mind,” you responded honestly.

“You’re sweet,” he said. “But, I should go.”   
“Let’s not wait years before seeing each other again, okay?” Spencer asked, almost nervously.

“You’re welcome at my cabin anytime,” he said.

“You’re always welcome here too,” you promised. 

He and Spencer shared a glance that felt heavier than when they’d greeted each other only a few days ago.

“Be happy, do good,” Gideon said as he hugged Spencer. 

“Don’t you mean to well?” he asked.

“No,” Gideon smiled. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” you warned. 

“To you my dear? Never,” he said, pulling you into a hug.

In just a few short days, you’d gotten used to Gideon living with you. He’d felt such a natural addition to your lives and you were sad to see him go.

You watched him go with your final goodbyes, and stood alone with Spencer in your house. You closed the door and listened to the silence. The whole day had been full of noise, music, food, excitement, but now there was nothing.

You took your husband’s hand and went upstairs. You helped each other undress, and slipped into something more comfortable. Going back downstairs, you lit a fire and picked at the food that still remained. There was cleanup to do, but it could wait. For the moment, you snuggled with Spencer on the couch, both watching the fire as you laid against his chest.

“So, Mrs. Reid,” Spencer said playfully. “What are thinking?”

You looked up at him and smiled.    
“I’m thinking that I love my husband, Mr. Reid.”

He looked at you for moment, and his smile faded into something more serious, less playful.

“I love you,” he said. His tone surprised you. It seemed so suddenly serious. 

“I love you too,” you assured him, a little confused as to the change in mood.

“Sorry,” he laughed nervously. “It just kind of hit me.”

“What’s that?” you asked. 

He glanced up at the mantle where your frame stood. There were empty spots for photos, and plenty of room on the mantle for more frames.

“Every birthday,” he whispered. “It’s really happening.”

“Did you ever doubt it would?” you asked. He glanced at you, his lips in a thin line. 

“You know me,” he sighed. 

“I do,” you smirked. “Which is why I know that now is the part where I promise you that no matter what, I will always be there for you, always love, and always kiss you,” you said, proving your point with your lips on his. “For every birthday.”

He sighed contentedly and you snuggled back up to his chest.

You made love that night, and it felt the same as it always had. Your souls had been tied together for a long time now. It was nice to celebrate it, to declare it legally, and all that, but it didn’t change the connection your skin felt to his skin. It didn’t change the longing you felt for him to hold you constantly. It didn’t change the way his breath hitched when you said his name, or the way you clung to him when you unravelled together. 

You lay together that night, husband and wife, as you would for all the years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally stole that "do good" line from Mr. Feeny from Boy Meets World cuz it was brilliant.  
> Also sorry I suck at writing the parents into the story, they just bore me sometimes and I'd rather focus on the other characters. Apologies for my laziness.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY it's been SO LONG! I'm still writing, just very slowly. I hope you enjoy the next few chapters. I promise there's at least one more, possibly two! Thanks for the support!

You chose to spend your honeymoon touring the greatest libraries in America. It was fun, flying and exploring with your new husband. You spent the days in the libraries, reading to each other, smelling the books, and getting to see some rare volumes. During the night, you’d go find the best food in the city, and go to your hotel to make love. 

It took two weeks to complete your tour, using up all of Spencer’s vacation time at the college as he got various guest lecturers, former profiles, colleagues, and the like, to fill in for him. 

You got back and unpacked everything, settling back into your home. The ring on your finger felt so right, and you often caught yourself staring at it. Not that it was anything extravagant. It was just the memory of your wedding, of your vows and your commitment to Spencer that made you stop and stare.

It was three weeks after you’d gotten home and settled back into the usual routine before you realized you hadn’t had your period since before your wedding. With everything going on, you had thought it was just stress and travel that had kept it at bay. But now, standing alone in your room, you paused folding the laundry, and smiled. 

Could it be possible?

You dismissed the thought at first. Surely it was just delayed and would return soon. Still, you were fairly regular. You dropped the laundry, unable to focus. Spencer was at work, but you grabbed the car keys and headed to the closest drugstore. You grabbed two pregnancy tests and rushed home.

You stared at them. You didn’t open them. Instead, you sat and became lost in thoughts, fantasies, and preoccupations about the potentiality of being pregnant, until you heard the front door open. Spencer walked in, looking mildly perturbed at his tie.

“I think I spilled soup on my tie,” he frowned. 

You said nothing and waited for him to see what you had laid out on the coffee table. At your silence, he looked up, and then followed your gaze to the two pink boxes.

“Those are pregnancy tests,” he said cautiously.

You nodded. 

“Yup.”

“Are they for you?”

“Yup.”

“They’re unopened.”

“Yup.”

“You were waiting for me?” he asked, a small smile livening his lips.

“I drank a whole carton of orange juice,” you said. 

He chuckled and looked at you.

“Ready?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

You went and peed on the two sticks and set them on the bathroom counter. You’d gotten the less expensive of the kinds, and so you had to wait a few minutes for the results. 

You were sitting on the counter next to them, your leg anxiously bouncing, kicking the counter lightly. Spencer sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching you. 

“What if I’m actually pregnant?” you asked, eyeing the tests anxiously.

“Do… Don’t you want that?” Spencer asked, casting his glance to the floor.

“Of course,” you laughed. He sighed with relief. “But… then I’d be  _ pregnant _ ,” you marveled. “And we’d have a kid.”

“That is generally what’s supposed to happen,” Spencer smirked.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” you asked, suddenly serious.

“What?” he asked.

You bit your lip, casting a nervous glance at the still-processing pregnancy tests.

“What if, I don’t know, they have a completely different personality and he or she just doesn’t like me?”

Spencer stood from his place on the tub and walked over to you, stilling your kicking legs with his hands on your thighs.

“That’s preposterous,” he half smiled. “You are the most likable and lovable person I know.”

You rolled your eyes as he kissed your nose, but felt comforted nonetheless.

“What if he doesn’t like  _ me _ ?” Spencer nearly whispered.

“Now  _ that’s _ preposterous,” you shook your head.

“It’s not though,” Spencer said, taking a step back from you. “I’m awkward and shy, I have nervous habits that annoy some people, I talk too much sometimes, I--”

“Spencer,” you laughed. 

He stopped wringing his hands.

“What?” he asked, looking up to see you holding the tests.

You felt your cheeks ache at the wideness of your smile. Both tests read positive.

Spencer looked at the tests and then back at you several times, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

Lowering the tests with a shaky hand, you watched Spencer walk slowly towards you. He didn’t say anything. A small smile made the corners of his mouth pull up, and there was a small light in his eyes. You placed the tests on the counter as he kissed you gently. 

Resting his forehead against yours, he sighed, and you both closed your eyes for a moment.

“We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered. 

You couldn’t say anything, there were too many things swirling inside you, so you just laughed and kissed him. He wrapped your legs around his waist and you clung to him as he lifted you off the counter, twirling you around in your bathroom, laughing like crazy. Finally you lowered yourself down and stood with him.

“You’re going to be a great dad,” you smiled up at him. He kissed your forehead. 

“I love you so much,” he breathed, nuzzling your neck.

After going to the doctor that week to confirm with a blood test, you decided to have the team over for dinner to tell them.

After eating all the pizza you possibly could, each of you were in a slight food coma, leaning back in your chairs and gazing woefully at the empty boxes before you. Taking advantage of the lull, you stood up, drawing the attention of the team. Spencer sat smiling beside you. 

“I, um, we, having an announcement to make,” you said shyly, feeling all the profilers’ eyes on you. 

“Oh my, dear Odin, no, tell me yes,” Garcia said, her eyes widening and smile spreading across her face. 

“Babygirl what…” Morgan’s eyebrows pulled together at his girl before he realized and turned to you.

You should have known you wouldn’t have had to say more than that. As the other team members realized, you saw the smiles appear like dominoes on each of their faces.

“When did you find out?” Garcia asked. 

“Just the other day,” you smiled. 

“Congratulations,” Hotch said, getting up and walking over to you. 

He pulled you into an embrace and held you there. You dipped your head into his shoulder and tried not to cry. It was one of those Hotch hugs that you felt deep inside. That familiar pull of a father figure, of someone who loved you. Hotch only seemed to let you go when he realized the others had lined up to hug Spencer and make their way to you as well. 

“Congratulations,” Hotch whispered once more before moving out of the way of the train of smiling friends.

Garcia was the last to hug you. 

“I cannot wait to see the life that you and Boy Wonder create,” she whispered. “I know that she will be absolutely perfect.”

She kissed your cheek, leaving a soft pink mark, and held your gaze for a moment. 

“She?” you asked. 

“Oh, I know about these things. I have a gift,” she winked.

“She does,” Morgan smiled. “One time, she told me my cousin was going to have a boy, and she’d never even met her.”

“I was right then, and I’m right now,” Garcia grinned.

“Always, babygirl,” Morgan smiled as he kissed the top of her head.

“Have you told Gideon?” Hotch asked. 

“Not yet,” you said. “He couldn’t make it tonight, but he guessed on the phone anyway,” you laughed. “We’ll have him over soon enough.”

“I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to babysit sometimes,” Prentiss smiled. “As would we all.”

“And Henry could definitely use a playmate,” JJ added. 

“Thank you all so much,” you sighed happily. “It really does mean a lot to me to have this… this amazing extended family.”

You felt the emotions rising in your chest, and took a breath to keep from cracking your voice.

“I love you all.”

Spencer slipped a hand around your waist and kissed the top of your head. Your friends looked at you lovingly.

“We love you too,” Morgan smiled. 

When the team left, and it was just you and Spencer, you felt exhausted. You’d expected to be excited, hopped up on the excitement of telling the gang. Yet here you were, emotionally drained from all the love that had coursed through your body.

All you needed was a long bath with Spencer followed by a good night’s sleep.

In the following months, you began to show. Your house was full of parental guidance books, books on pregnancy, delivery, and basically anything and everything child related. While you had glanced at a few to understand the basics of what was going on with your body, you let Spencer do the heavy lifting with the books. He sped through them at a pace you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

One night you found him on the floor, leaning against the couch, head laid back, mouth open, book on his lap, snoring. You kissed his forehead and he started awake.

“You know you don’t need to read all this,” you smirked. “We’ll be fine.”

“I just… want to be ready for anything,” Spencer said, almost uncomfortably. 

“We won’t be ready for  _ everything, _ ” you countered cautiously. “That’s kind of the point of first time parents.”

He looked down at the book he had open and sighed, closing it to show you the title. 

_ Schizophrenia: A Study of Heredity _

“Oh, Spencer,” you sighed.

You looked at his downcast eyes. 

“There’s a small chance that our child will inherit it,” he said.

“How small?” you asked.

“Big enough for concern,” he mumbled. “It helps that I haven’t shown any symptoms yet, and most likely won’t,” he added. “Still…”

“It’s something we’d deal with,” you offered. “Sure, it’s not ideal, but it wouldn’t change how much we will love him or her. And by the time it starts affecting them, they’re usually like, what, twenties?” you asked. He nodded. “Think of how much science will know by then, how many more options they’ll have.”

Spencer seemed to brighten at this. 

“There’s nothing that we can’t handle,” you said, to yourself and to him.

He nodded. You ran a hand through his tangled curls and sighed. 

“I hope she has your hair,” you smirked. This elicited a small smile from him.

“She?” he asked.

“Garcia’s inkling kinda stuck,” you admitted. “Would you like a girl?”

He nodded. 

“I’d like anything they’d identify as,” he said. 

“Me too,” you smiled. 

In the following months, Spencer tried to get you to eat healthy, and you did, but Garcia would sneak you chocolate and fried food when you needed it. Occasionally Spencer would indulge one of your weird cravings, but mostly out of curiosity to see why exactly you’d want to dip a pickle in vanilla ice cream. 

“Studies show that fetuses can hear music as early as eighteen weeks,” Spencer said on the seventeenth week of your pregnancy as he gave you a gift. You opened it to find a wide set of headphones that would fit over your growing belly.

While Spencer insisted that Mozart and Bach be played, you managed to sneak in some of your favorite songs as well.

The first time the baby kicked, you were in bed. 

“Oh,” you exclaimed, sitting up and putting your book down.

Spencer jumped and looked at you, alarmed. The two of you had been reading in silence.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to you attentively.

“She kicked,” you smiled. 

Spencer stared down at your stomach with awe. His hand was shaking as he laid his hand down and waited. Sure enough, she kicked again and the look on his face was something you swore you’d never forget. 

When you got even bigger, Morgan would try to balance objects on your stomach when you weren’t looking. Once, when you were napping on the couch while he was over late one night, he managed a few Jenga blocks.

Near the end of your pregnancy, you were starting to wish the due date was closer. You felt heavy, tired, and bloated all the time. People still promised you were “glowing” but you felt like a giant balloon that had to pee every ten minutes.

You laid in bed one night, staring up at the ceiling, while Spencer slept beside you. You were thinking about what Spencer would be like with your child. You’d seen him with Henry. He was engaging, playful even. If you didn’t know him so well, you might have thought the idea of kids would not appeal to him. They took time to explain things too, well, more than usual with adults anyway, and they were sticky and time consuming. However, as you thought about it, you saw the appeal to him. It would be a mind to mold, to help grow. It would be a piece of you and him melded into one person. 

You smiled to yourself in the dark as Spencer’s hand found its way onto your stomach.

“Mm, can’t sleep?” he asked, his eyes still closed and his voice heavy.

“No,” you whispered.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, blinking slowly, taking in the dark, cool bedroom.

“You,” you said, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss.

You rolled over and settled down to face him.

“What you’ll be like as a dad.”

He smiled. 

“And?” he prompted.

“And I can’t wait to see how much our child will take after you,” you said. 

“Me?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes,” you laughed. “You’ll teach her to be in love with learning, reading, exploring. You’ll teach her justice and the search for truth. You’ll love her so much that she’ll never question if she is loved.”

“I hope she takes after you,” he said softly. “I want her to write as passionately as you do. I want her to be intuitive, caring, and kind like her mother. But most of all, I want her to be in our story. I want those open frames and many more like them to be full of our story with her… Or him,” he added shyly. 

You nuzzled into his neck and drank in the smell of him. Pretty soon it wouldn’t be just the two of you. Very soon there would be a new character in your story, and you couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold.


	44. Chapter 44

You straightened Spencer’s bowtie before he slipped on his robes for the graduation ceremony. 

“You look delicious in those robes,” you said, kissing his cheek as he stood in front of the mirror. “Reminds me why I married you.”

“Because I’m an academic?” he asked.

“Because you look hot in purple,” you winked. He chuckled and walked toward the door. 

“You ready?” he asked. 

“Yes I am, Professor of the Year,” you smirked. He blushed.

“It’s really not necessary to call me that,” he said, his cheeks still flushed.

“If the university says it’s necessary, and all the students think it’s necessary, then I am most certainly not going to disagree.”

“It’s just a made up award,” he shrugged, but you could tell it did mean a lot to him.

“Really, all awards are made up,” you offered. “But this one’s based on people’s opinions. And the people have spoken.”

“It does feel nice,” he admitted, passing your purse to you. 

“Now, let’s go before Garcia honks one more time,” you laughed. But before you could open the door, you heard the beeping of her little car.

You made your way down to the car and saw Morgan in the passenger’s seat. How she’d won the argument as to who was driving, you didn’t know, but you squeezed into the car’s back seats with Spencer.

“Hello, Professor of the Year,” Garcia greeted merrily. 

“Hot shot,” Morgan nodded his greeting to Spencer. “Mrs. Hot Shot,” to you.

Spencer rolled his eyes, but you could tell he was pleased.

“You guys didn’t have to come, it’s not like  _ I’m _ graduating,” Spencer reminded them.

“But our boy is winning an award, and we want to be there,” Garcia smiled. “And so we go onward, valiant companions.”

With that, she took off. You shifted in the car, unable to get comfortable during the short ride to the university. You tried your best not to show it, but Spencer’s worried looks about every ten seconds toward you let you know he didn’t miss the discomfort.

Why couldn’t you just not be pregnant anymore? When was this kid getting here anyway? 

You thought of the ultrasounds hung on your fridge, the progression you’d seen all these months. Surely your due date wasn’t actually two weeks away? Surely you could just wish the baby here so you wouldn’t have to feel so uncomfortable.

You tried to banish the thoughts of discomfort and focus on Spencer. You arrived at the graduation as many of the students and professors were showing up in various states of half-donned robes and caps.

“Time to go backstage,” Spencer smiled at you. 

“We’ll be front row,” Garcia promised. “I made Hotch promise to get here a half hour earlier to save us our seats.”

“I’m sure he was thrilled with that,” Morgan grinned.

“Well I would have asked JJ, but she’s with Will and Henry in Louisiana,” Garcia said.

“I’ll see you later,” you kissed Spencer on his cheek.

He looked sad to leave you, but you knew sitting in the front row would calm any stage fright he might have in front of all these people. You’d seen him practice his acceptance speech, as was customary at the school, and he was going to be fine. His students really did love him, and you were sure that they would be happy with whatever he said.

You tried to focus on your breath to alleviate the churning your stomach seemed to insist on doing. You focused on getting to the chair and sitting down next to Haley. If you hadn’t been in pain, you would have noticed how nice of a day it was on the campus lawn.

“You okay, babygirl?” Morgan asked, sliding a hand under your elbow to help you settle into the chair.

“Oh yeah,” you muttered. “Probably just… gas or something.”

Morgan smirked and nodded as if to say,  _ okay, just checking. _

Rossi joined you shortly after that, but you couldn’t quite muster up a cheerful greeting before the ceremony began.

The graduating class wasn’t huge for the section of this morning’s graduates. It didn’t take long to get through the boring, cliche speeches in order to get to the professorial awards. When it was Spencer’s turn, he was announced, and a large cheer went up from the crowd.

Abruptly, there was a shift in your body. Painful, sudden. You winced and drew in breath quickly. Spencer had started talking, but you couldn’t pay attention, the pain was so intense. 

“... My lovely wife,” he said from the stage and gestured to you. 

And that was when your water broke.

Garcia was the first to notice and let out an excited gasp.

Spencer rushed to the edge of the stage and jumped down onto the lawn. 

“I’m fine, finish your speech,” you gasped, realizing you were clutching onto Morgan’s wrist tighter than you could have thought possible.

“Your water just broke,” Garcia said, standing up in front of you. “We gotta go.”

Someone handed the mic to Spencer.

“Thank you all for this award, which would not have been possible without my wife, who is now going to give birth to our first child. We have to go, thank you so much!”

He dropped the mic and slipped an arm under yours, while Morgan took the other side. Applause broke out in the crowd. 

Somehow, they Morgan and Spencer lifted you enough to help you stand up. The walk to the car was a blur of Spencer’s instructions to breathe, Garcia’s fumbling with the keys, Hotch’s assurances that he, Rossi, and Haley would meet you at the hospital, and Prentiss’ frantic calls to your parents and Spencer’s, along with calls to Gideon and JJ.

Rushing through the streets in Garcia’s tiny car, you felt Spencer’s hand in yours, turning white from your grip. He winced, but did not move. You heard his voice through the fog of pain, and Morgan shouting directions. 

You made it to the hospital and were wheeled in quickly to the delivery room, leaving behind your friends to go it alone with Spencer. You’d arranged to have an epidural, but there was no time for that now. 

Spencer kept talking to you, whispering how much he loved you, how excited he was to have this happening. There were a lot of instructions and a lot of pain.  _ Push, breathe, now push again. _

It seemed to take ages and no time at all. And then you heard crying. A nurse came over with a towel, wiped something off below your view, and emerged with a small, pink little thing.

“It’s a girl,” she smiled, handing you the small life.

And then she was on your chest. Right over your heart. You didn’t move, couldn’t move for a moment. Her small weight on your chest. Her cries quieting to a gurgle and then a contented sigh. 

When you were able to, you moved your hands to touch her, to hold her to you. The doctors helped you finish up, and cleaned you off, swaddled the baby in a blanket, but you didn’t even notice the doctor’s smile or the nurse’s congratulations before they left the room.

When they closed the door behind them, it was as if someone turned the focus back on in your head. You looked down at your chest. 

She was so small, so perfect. You cradled her, moving her to lay in your arms. You didn’t notice you were crying until a droplet landed on her cheek. Sniffling, you went to wipe it away, only to find Spencer’s fingers had beat you to it. You looked at him, and realized you had to wipe his eyes as well. 

He was a mess. His cheeks were red, his nose was slightly runny, his eyes were filled to the brim with tears. 

You both looked like a mess, and here was this perfect little girl, new and pure in your arms. You turned your attention back to the little life in your arms.

“Hi,” you half-breathed, half-cried.

It took you a moment to recover. 

“I’m your mom, and this is your dad,” you smiled, looking up at Spencer. His hand was over his mouth and he swallowed hard. 

“Hi,” he managed, his voice high.

He reached out a shaking hand, and touched her. She grasped at his finger and held it as tightly as she could. 

“Do you want to hold her?” you asked. He nodded emphatically. 

You shifted, moving her carefully. He took her and cradled her gently in his arms, his attention completely focused on her. 

“I’m sorry I made you miss your award speech,” you laughed.

Spencer chuckled, looking up from the baby. 

“I think it was worth it,” he smiled. 

You moved over in bed and he sidled in next to you, careful not to jostle her too much. 

“What are we going to call her?” you asked. All the books of baby’s names seemed to have erased themselves from your memory.

“There’s a lot of meaning in names,” Spencer said. 

“I want her to be brave and smart,” you said. 

“And kind, and hopeful,” Spencer added. 

“I want her to be happy… and inquisitive,” you offered. “Any names that mean all of those things?”

Spencer smiled.

“Not quite one,” he said. 

You thought for a moment. 

“What I really want is for her to be herself. I want her to be unique. I want her to be weird and awesome and special.”

“And do you have an idea as to what name would represent that?” he asked. 

“Did I miss it?” Garcia asked, barging into the room, sweat streaming down her face, chest heaving with breath. 

You turned to Spencer. 

“Penny,” you smiled. 

“Penny,” he repeated. 

“They wouldn’t let us into the delivery room, well, rather, Morgan wouldn’t let me in. ‘They need time,’ he said. And I said, my babies are having a baby and you will let me through that-- Oh.. Hello,” she said, changing from frantic to awestruck in a matter of a second as she noticed the small baby in Spencer’s arms.

She walked slowly over to you, watching the little life gurgle and stretch.

“Did I hear you say Penny?” she asked, as she sat down in the chair next to you. 

“This is Penny,” you smiled.

“Penny as in Penelope? As in me? As in, dear Odin. Oh my… You guys,” she said, tearing up. 

Morgan rushed into the room, as if he were chasing someone. He looked as though he were about to say something to Garcia, but his attention was taken by Penny.

“Oh my goodness,” Morgan said, grinning. His gaze danced between you, Spencer, and Penny.

“Well, hello, little one,” he said, coming closer to see her. “Aren’t you a cutie?”

“I told you it’d be a girl. She’s perfect,” Garcia said, wiping her tears on a kleenex she’d pulled from her purse.

“I think so,” Spencer grinned. 

“You did good kid,” Morgan said, clapping Spencer lightly on the shoulder. “Kids,” he ammended, looking at you with eyes full of warmth.

“They said this room,” Hotch said, coming through the doorway. Haley followed him, and Prentiss and Rossi weren’t far behind. 

“Penny,” you said, “Meet your family.”

Hotch smiled wider than you’d seen in a long time, and Haley clasped her hands to her mouth and laughed with joy. Prentiss seemed as awestruck as Garcia. Rossi smiled contentedly.

“Penny?” Hotch confirmed. 

You nodded. 

“Short for Penelope,” you added. “Penelope Emily Jennifer Reid?” you suggested. 

“Having two middle names is highly underrated,” Prentiss smiled. 

“Can I hold her?” Morgan asked. 

You saw Spencer tense slightly, but he nodded and smiled. You understood the feeling without needing to ask. You’d just made this perfect life and you never wanted her to leave your or Spencer’s grasp. But, you trusted your family, and as Morgan took Penny into his arms, you knew she’d always be loved by everyone in this room. 

It was late afternoon by the time everyone had left. JJ and Will had FaceTimed with you and gave their congratulations. Gideon called a little after, and told Spencer he would be back in town very soon. He spoke to you briefly, congratulating you and wishing you the best. He talked to Spencer for a long time, and you watched as Spencer’s smile widened at his mentor’s words. Your parents called as well, and promised to come up the next day. Spencer’s mother insisted you come immediately to Nevada, but you had to convince her that a newborn on a plane wasn’t the best idea for now. William congratulated you both, and promised to fly out for a week very soon. 

The day had been full of cooing and cradling, and you were wiped. 

“The doctor said we can go home tonight,” Spencer whispered while you fed Penny.

You peered down at Penny, sucking gently on you. 

“Bringing her home,” you sighed. “Somehow it feels like it’s too good to be true, like we shouldn’t get to keep her.”

“I know,” Spencer agreed. 

“She’s going to be so loved,” you sighed. 

Before you left, you got one of the nurses to take a picture of the three of you in the hospital bed. You knew once you got home, you’d print it, and add it to your growing story of your life in pictures. Because it wasn’t just your and Spencer’s story anymore. Up until now it had been about a couple. Girl meets boy. But now it was more than just a story about a couple. Now it was a story about a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of your comments make me so incredibly happy, thank you so much! I've got probably one more chapter in me, but no promises when it'll be done! I'll try to make it soon! <3


	45. Epilogue

It was a common occurrence in the beginning months, to come downstairs and see Spencer laying on the couch, fast asleep, with Penny napping on his chest. At first, you didn’t quite understand why Spencer felt the need to get up early, get Penny up, and go downstairs, just to do what they had already been doing, sleeping.

You watched as Spencer’s chest rose and fell calmly, remembering back to the beginning of your relationship when he rarely got to sleep so unperturbed. Now he was nearly silent, only slightly snoring. Penny was fast asleep, rising and falling on his chest with his breaths. His hand was on her back, protecting her even in sleep. 

You would make breakfast for Spencer as he slept, and gently wake him up with a kiss. If it was a work day and he had to go teach, he would eat, get dressed, and grudgingly leave after breakfast. If it wasn’t a work day, he would help you clean up from breakfast and sit with you on the couch as you fed Penny.

Watching Spencer change a diaper, was still almost as hilarious as the first time. He said “ Meconium” so much after her first poop, you thought it might end up being her first word. For some reason, perhaps out of nervousness or something of the kind, he sang while he changed her. Not any particular song, just what he happened to be doing at the moment. 

“And we’re gonna powder that bum, yes, powder that bum,” he’d sing to her quietly as she stared up at him from the changing table.

You had to stifle your giggles even after months of this.

You watched the clock turn to midnight on the night of her first birthday together. You had promised him every birthday, and this was no exception. You stared silently at each other before turning your gaze to your now one-year-old baby. Somehow, through the sleepless nights, you’d made it this far.

You’d come into the room sometimes to find Spencer reading a range of age-appropriate books like, “The Theory of Everything,” and “A Brief History of Time.” When you subtly mentioned that perhaps books like “Corduroy” or “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” might be more apt titles, Spencer insisted that she could understand it already, he just knew.

And when her first word turned out to be  _ entropy _ , you guessed he was correct.

It was surprising how much effect Penny had on you, but even more surprising to see her effects on other people. You remembered the night when Prentiss had told you about her abortion vividly, and when she told you that she was thinking about adoption with Amy, it filled that part of you that had been hurting for her.

“I think we’re ready,” she’d said. “I’ve been on the move my entire life. Whether it was for a job, or as a kid moving with my mom, I’ve never wanted to settle down… And yet with her… I don’t see my suitcase packed by the door like I did with everyone else. I see a home.”

And Prentiss had plenty of opportunity to be around children at your house. Joy often brought Kai around, and JJ and Will brought Henry. Jack, too, was known to come over with Haley and Hotch. They were widely different age ranges, but somehow it worked. You had no doubt that however Prentiss chose to welcome a child into her and Amy’s life, she would be a fantastic mom.

Amy had taken night courses while she worked at the coffee shop that Prentiss had met her in, and was now a registered nurse working at the local hospital. Her speciality was in pediatrics.

You and Spencer learned to take the good with the bad. While Penny flourished, Spencer’s mother suffered. She was lucid most of the time you video chatted with her, but sometimes she would forget who Spencer was, or be convinced that the nurses were trying to poison her through her oatmeal. You flew out with Penny when she was about three. Diana was confused at first, but after she realized who she was looking at, she took to Penny like she’d always been a grandmother.

Looking at Spencer as he watched his mother with his child filled you with enough joy for four lifetimes. You knew he must have thought for most of his life that this moment would never come, yet here it was. 

When you let Garcia do her hair, Penny wouldn’t want to shower for days for fear of ruining the unique creation. Garcia taught her the magic of her ways, and soon Penny was looking like a miniature version of her namesake. You’d never told Penny that she was named after Garcia, but somehow, she took to the analyst more than any of your friends. You’d find her watching Garcia as she freshened up her lipstick, or as she typed code when she had to work while she was over. 

You’d left Morgan alone with her to babysit one night as you and Spencer went out to a movie, and when you returned, he had a pink crown on his head, sparkly blush on his cheeks, and bright purple nails.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” he said as he was caught smiling at Penny when you walked in.

Spencer took out his phone and snapped a picture.

“Only everyone we know,” he promised.

“Morgan is a pretty lady now,” Penny announced. “Isn’t that right?” she prompted him.

Morgan sighed, defeated.

“That’s right, angel,” he said.

Gideon’s babysitting wasn’t one of the usual methods you remembered from your teenage days. When you got home, Penny knew what a Wood Warbler, a Vireos, and a Starling were.

His favorite thing to do after you’d had him over for dinner, was to dance with Penny. When she was old enough, he’d put on old jazzy songs, sometimes classical music, and waltz with her around the room. She gladly rode with her little feet on top of his shoes as he guided them around the room. You and Spencer would often dance slowly beside them, more keen to watch than to dance.

When the adoption papers finally went through, you got to meet Alexander, the young boy that Prentiss and Amy had adopted. He was just about Penny’s age, and the two formed an immediate friendship that would last them their lifetimes.

Dropping her off at her first day of school, you and Spencer both cried. But when she came back with a huge smile on her face and relayed everything that she’d learned that day, you were both happy. You could tell already that she loved learning as much as you both did. She’d already started displaying some of Spencer’s abilities. Her memory was sharp, and she read quite a few grades above what most children her age could.

You had to stop Spencer from doing her homework for her, though. He was so excited to see what she was learning, he’d give her the answers without thinking. 

She didn’t know quite what her father taught when he went to “his school.” And you and Spencer tried your hardest to delay that for as long as you could.

You managed to wait until she got into middle school, before “Daddy teaches students about bad men” wasn’t enough of an answer anymore. It was then that Spencer told her of his time in the FBI, and what it was he really taught about now. While perhaps most children this age might consider this a novelty, something to gasp at, or ask to see pictures of dead bodies and murderers, Penny did not. She sat quietly, considering everything Spencer had told her.

“And what if I wanted to be in the FBI?” she asked timidly. 

Your first thought was absolutely not, no baby of yours was going to be put in front of flying bullets and madmen. Spencer glanced at you, and you knew he knew what you were thinking. 

“It’s very dangerous sometimes,” he warned. 

“I’d be careful,” she promised. “More than careful, I’d be smart.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“I want to work with Uncle Morgan,” she said.

“He would be lucky to have you,” you grinned.

And true to her word, she went to Yale, studied up, went to graduate school at Stamford, and was welcomed into the FBI.

As for you and Spencer, you were happy. Simply put, you had everything you wanted out of life. You got to read, and love, and laugh and grow with the man of your dreams. You watched your beautiful daughter grow up, you watched Spencer become an acclaimed professor and scholar, you were published in huge magazines, and even managed to publish a book of short stories to raving reviews.

While your story was far from over, the first volume had been sublime. Your mantle was overflowing with framed photos and nicknacks, representing the different chapters of the story of your life together so far. There were pictures of soccer games, graduations, scholarly acclamations, framed articles and stories, and a mess of other memorabilia. And, true to your word from the day you swore it, you had been together for every birthday. And so you would be for the rest of your lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for taking this journey with me. I so appreciate all the support. I hope you enjoyed my story ❤️


End file.
